Until The Day I Rise
by EtherealRed
Summary: Rewrite: He'd intended to thwart Naga by joining with his younger vessel only for the boy's mind to shatter under his touch. It is frustrating, but Grima knows how to turn unfortunate events in his favor - and what better way to defy Naga than disguising himself as human and infiltrating her servants' hearts alongside his vessel?
1. Prologue

**AN:** To new readers, welcome! To old readers, welcome back and thank you for sticking with me so far! Almost one year ago I began writing Until The Day I Rise, a retelling of Fire Emblem Awakening in which Grima plays a major role as Robin's 'twin brother'. Although I had a plan for where I was taking it, I didn't finalize things until I was already more than a few chapters in. When I went to upload the latest chapter I took a moment to reread what I'd written, only to realize I'd completely neglected to set up many, many details in the early chapters that would become important later on.

My first thought was to edit the chapters themselves, but eventually I found myself rewriting large sections to the point where the edited chapters were completely different from the original. In the interest of keeping things simple I've decided to abandon the first incarnation of UTDIR and post a new, rewritten version. The original version will remain up for an indefinite amount of time, or at least until the rewrite catches up with it.

If anyone's interested in becoming a beta reader please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

:: **Prologue** ::

* * *

_The humans were moving again. They crept across the ruined city, weapons and supplies clutched tightly in white-knuckled hands. Whenever they reached one of the few buildings that were only partially destroyed they quickly ducked into its shelter and reorganized themselves, wiping off sweaty weapon hilts and taking tiny sips of water to keep up their strength as they glanced anxiously at the darkening sky._

_A handful of years ago Ylisstol had been the jewel of the halidom, a sprawling metropolis that welcomed any and all into its arms. By the same token it had been one of the first to fall, the densely packed population proving an effective catalyst for the spread of Risen. Now all that remained of the once grand city was a charred debris field that spread for acres in all directions and, in the center of it all, the battered but still proud walls which surrounded the Exalt's Castle. Now more than ever it was a symbol for the few humans who still remained - a symbol of hope, a reminder of what they'd once had and a dream that one day the past would be restored. And so they moved, picked their way over the Risen-infested ruins of the city and hovered nervously at the castle gates until a sentry confirmed their humanity and let them in._

_If he wanted he could put an end to all this. It wouldn't take much, not at all - without Naga's aid they stood no chance against him._

_Or, perhaps, a more indirect route. There was no shortage of death within the castle, which was beginning to overflow with refugees even while more kept arriving. Starvation. Disease. Humanity's most ancient enemies were hard at work within those walls and although the corpses were burned almost before the heart even stopped all it would take was the smallest pulse of power, a tiny nudge..._

_He picked up a pebble and tossed it, watching it clatter across the ground. The humans froze; their weapons moved into defensive positions and the adults quickly closed ranks around the children. After a quick survey of the surrounding area the group began to move again, hurriedly picking their way through the debris. They were only a few yards away from the wall, but here the ground was clear of all obstructions and they were in clear sight of any patrolling Risen._

_His body soared through the skies in the far horizon, laughed as he watched some survivors on Valm despair upon discovering their carefully hidden food cache destroyed by Risen, and perhaps that was what gave these humans the courage to suddenly sprint and pound on the gates until they opened._

_It would be so easy..._

* * *

"C'mon," Morgan hissed, trying not to sound too impatient as she watched her companion move into position at a leisurely pace. "Hurry up, they'll be here any minute."

"They've 'been here' for a while already," he said blandly. "If you paid attention to your troops you'd know that."

"I...what?" Morgan frowned and turned her attention inwards towards the power that Master Grima had granted her, the power that allowed her to raise and command Risen. Making contact with her troops at the other end of the mountain pass, she watched in horror as a whole flank was suddenly obliterated in seconds.

Quickly she sent commands to the nearest units, ordering them to fill in the gaps, then looked up with a scowl. "Is it just me or are they fighting a lot better today?"

"The princess managed to perform part of the Awakening, so there's that. They also think this is their last chance to 'save the world' and you of all people should know how humans act when pushed to their limit," her fellow sorcerer replied with a thin smile that was barely visible under his bleached bone mask. Dark eyes shot Morgan a brief glance that was somehow neutral and judgmental at the same time; unspoken was the fact that Morgan, despite her prestigious bloodline, was every bit as human as their enemies.

Morgan resolutely quashed the jealous feelings bubbling up in her head and pulled out her tome, running her fingers along the familiar etchings on the cover for luck.

"That won't make a difference," she muttered, not sure if she was talking about herself or her former friends. "They will still fail. We'll make sure of that."

Her companion didn't respond, having finally settled into position beside an outcropping of rock that shielded him from anyone approaching from the mountain pass. Morgan herself stood in plain sight, at the top of the crumbling steps that led to the ruins of an old stone gate; she pulled her cowl as low as she dared, its enchantment casting shadows to obscure her face, and waited for Naga's servants to arrive.

* * *

Lucina.

He knew her. Oh yes, he knew her. His vessel had witnessed the early stages of her life, her growth from the tiny infant in her mother's arms into the small child who often doodled in the margins of her notes when she thought her tutor wasn't looking. In the days immediately following his awakening he'd watched the humans turn towards the girl who struggled to wield a sword that was too big for her, watched as the years passed and she grew into the sword with a speed born of necessity. He'd watched her instinctively grow distant from the daughter of the man who was rumored to have betrayed her beloved father, unwittingly giving him his most loyal servant. He'd watched her rally her companions with her father's charisma but none of his optimism, watched her lunge towards the dead while she flinched away from the living.

And now he watched as she charged at his vessel's daughter, barely faltering as she made short work of any Risen in her path with quick stabs of her sword. Morgan didn't flinch, didn't move except to raise an arm and summon tendrils of living shadow that whipped at Lucina in an attempt to constrict her movements. The princess ducked one, slashed at another, jumped and spun with grace her father never had. Falchion's blade, imbued with the remnants of Naga's incomplete Awakening, sliced through Morgan's shadows with ease.

"Get out of my way!" Lucina's scream was punctuated by a roar from the half-breed, the child called Nah swooping down with spewing flames. Morgan managed to dodge Lucina's frenzied attack but faltered, glancing up at Nah with wide eyes -

The flames spluttered out and Nah cried in pain as she crashed into the mountain, held in midair within an orb of dark energy. His most treasured servant, the talented child he could almost call his own, raised his hands and began reciting a second, more devastating spell, only to cut off mid-chant and teleport away as a volley of arrows peppered the ground where he stood.

Meanwhile Lucina hadn't hesitated, pressing on with the grim determination that made her a legend among her kind. She wielded Falchion with her usual precision, now tempered by Naga's power and the knowledge that her goal was right in front of her; Morgan's magic was torn to pieces with powerful blows, Morgan herself forced steadily backwards until she was backed against the gate. Morgan ducked under a slash aimed at her head and scrambled for her sword but she'd always been better at magic; with only a few quick blows she was quickly disarmed, her cowl flying backwards and dispelling her enchantment.

Lucina froze.

"Morgan?"

At that moment the gate began to glow, brought to life by the remnants of Naga's tattered power. Morgan, still unbalanced, tumbled through with a yelp. Lucina hurried forward but then hesitated, looking back at her friends who were still struggling with the Risen on the path behind her.

He reached for the strands of Naga's power and took flight for the past.

* * *

Morgan ached all over.

This wasn't unusual; she pushed herself hard in her training sessions, determined to be the best she could be for Master Grima, and often challenged her fellow servant to competitions which she almost always lost. At least in their most recent duels it felt like she'd held out for longer than usual before collapsing, though that was probably wishful thinking.

What _was_ unusual was the fact that she was laying on what felt like a stone floor as opposed to her comfortably sturdy mattress. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting up at a cracked ceiling, and looked around.

Immediately her gaze snapped to the only other person in the area, a pale boy sitting nearby, and with a gasp she struggled to sit up.

The boy could only be described as her 'twin'; his features were slightly more angular than hers and his hair was black instead of her pale pink, but otherwise looking at his face was like looking in a mirror. She wrenched her eyes away, frowning at the boy's Grimleal robes and what looked like the remains of a shattered bone mask lying a few feet away.

Wait...

"Is that _you_?"

The boy, the nameless, masked sorcerer who'd served Master Grima as long or even longer than she had, gave her a small nod. "Hey, Morgan. How do you feel?"

"I...I'm fine," she managed, wincing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. The boy watched silently, offering neither help nor encouragement, and passed her a flask once she finally managed to prop herself against a pillar. She took a long drink, relishing the pleasantly cool water as she studied their surroundings.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not sure," he said, leaning back on his hands as he looked around. "We're almost certainly in the past - unless Naga messed up her spell, which I really wouldn't be surprised about since I'm pretty sure she managed to scatter everyone all over the place - but I don't know where."

"The past," Morgan murmured, trying and failing to suppress faint memories of the family she'd once had. "I fell through the gate, didn't I? But how...why are you here?"

"Master Grima sent me after you."

"Master!" Morgan jolted upright. "How is he? Is he alright? I let the princess reach the gate...and he sent you after me? I've caused a lot of trouble, haven't I..."

"Don't worry," the boy said with a small but genuine smile. Morgan stared; she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen someone smile like that. "We failed to hold the gate, it's true, but Master was able to follow the spell. He's with his vessel right now."

"O-oh...that's good," Morgan said weakly, looking down at her hands. Her companion looked like her twin; by extension he also looked like Grima's vessel, her father - in some ways more than Morgan herself did, since Robin had also been dark-haired. Her father had also smiled like that, small and secretive but ever so gentle, in the days before Grima's awakening.

If they were really in the past...

"Master left us some instructions," the boy continued. "Well, he left _me_ some instructions but I think it won't hurt to share since they involve you too."

Morgan took a deep breath and looked up, carefully pushing down her emotions. "Yeah? What are they?"

The boy gave her a bright smile, though there was a slight edge to it. "The drug in your water should kick in any moment now. Once you're unconscious, I'm supposed to wipe your memory of everything except your father."

"_What_?" Morgan scrambled to her feet but stumbled and fell almost immediately, the world beginning to blur around her.

"I don't think I ever told you my name," the boy said conversationally as Morgan struggled to stay awake. "My name's Morgan, but since we'll be spending a lot of time together that might get confusing. What do you think about Marc?"

Morgan blacked out.


	2. Twin

**AN:** In the original version Grima's human name was 'Levi', taken from 'Leviathan'. I've never watched or read Attack of Titans so I'll admit I never drew a connection to Levi Ackerman until my friend asked about it, but now it's all I see. Doesn't help that AoT Levi's English voice actor is the same as Chrom's...

So! Male Morgan is going by Marc, which is Morgan's Japanese name, but while I thought about doing the same for Grima - 'Gimurei', 'Reflet' or 'Rufure' - none of them really fit for me. Then I thought about giving him a name in the ancient language from Tellius (FE 9 and 10), which in the herons' galdrs is pretty much Japanese spoken backwards. Ierumig? Telfer? Erufur? Still not feeling it...

Well...what about bird names, to fit in with 'Robin'?

And that's how I decided to call him 'Rook'. Yeah, I'm not very good at coming up with names - but hey, bonus chess theme and a rook skull does kind of resemble a less monstrous version of Grima's dragon skull...

Other than that, this is probably the least rewritten chapter so far but even if you've read the original I still recommend reading at least to the end of Grima's commentary on screaming.

To guest review R: Unfortunately Robin does need to join the Shepherds for reasons that'll hopefully be clear eventually, but thanks for the suggestion!

* * *

:: **Twin** ::

* * *

_"No. __No. You won't win."_

_"'Tis a poor tactician who shuts his eyes and refuses to listen when he finds the truth unpleasant."_

_"Except it's not 'the truth', now is it? Besides, I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere and I'll find a way to stop you."_

_"You are where you belong. Do not presume you are anything less or more than what you are."_

_"Says the mutant dragon pretending to be human. You know, I bet I can be a lot more convincing than you can. Why don't you let me do the acting? It's not like I can ruin anything with you in my head like this."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"I know, I know, but it was worth a try, right? Say, what do you think-"_

_"Silence."_

* * *

Grima frowned as he stared down at his vessel's sleeping face. Mortal minds were truly fragile - Robin had taken only a few of his memories before everything shattered into irretrievable pieces. The fact that his vessel had been struggling against him the entire time certainly hadn't helped either. He'd forgotten how weak and untrained the boy had been before Naga's bloodline forced him to become stronger, to push his limits and grow into his destiny. His hatred for Naga and her kind aside, he had to admit that if not for her precious Exalt his vessel might've remained hidden in obscurity forever.

Robin. It was an amusingly mundane name for the Grimleal's greatest achievement, the ultimate product of centuries of rituals and experimentation. Grima leaned forward, looking beyond Robin's physical form to the spirit that lay within. It was a tiny shard painstakingly extracted from Grima himself, the soul of a frightened infant teased out from beneath throngs of maddened spirits and siphoned into a human body, and even now it struggled weakly against its bonds as it sensed the presence of its master.

He calmed it with a gentle pulse of power. One day the piece would reunite with the whole; this was not that day.

Robin shifted and groaned, drawing Grima's attention back to the physical realm. Dark brown eyes blinked open and stared confusedly at the ceiling.

"Hey," Grima said with a smile as he tapped into the dormant personality of his vessel, seeking out and falling into his vessel's mannerisms and way of speech. "Look who decided to wake up."

Robin looked at him blankly. "I...um, what?"

"What?" Grima mimicked, raising an eyebrow. "You're the one who passed out in the middle of the street. Seriously Robin, you need to stop swooning every time you see a pretty face."

Robin gave him a half-hearted scowl that quickly became a confused frown. "Wait...Robin? Is that my name? Who are you?"

This time both of Grima's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You're joking, right?" When Robin just continued to stare blankly he reached out and pressed his palm against Robin's forehead, putting on a worried expression. "Robin? It's me." If he remembered Validar's rants correctly Robin's mother had been enamored with birds, hence her son's name... "I'm Rook. Your twin, remember?"

"My...twin? You're my brother?" Robin winced and rubbed his temple, a panicked look spreading across his face. "I'm sorry, I...I don't remember anything."

He was beginning to hyperventilate; Grima suppressed his annoyance and quickly grabbed Robin's shoulders. "Don't push yourself! If you don't remember then you don't remember - calm down."

Once Robin's breathing had returned to normal Grima slumped back in his chair, the very image of a concerned and tired brother as he studied Robin with a worried expression and began to 'explain' the events that had led up to Robin's collapse - or at least the events as Robin had originally known them. Before joining the Shepherds Robin, who'd grown up in a now-defunct orphanage near the Plegia-Ylisse border, had been prone to wanderlust and didn't form any long-lasting connections, allowing Grima to slip 'Rook' into the narrative with ease.

Robin occasionally interjected with a question or two but otherwise he listened carefully, studying Grima's face with an intensity he normally reserved for battle plans. By the end he was looking slightly overwhelmed, but before he could say anything someone screamed.

They jumped to their feet and ran over to the window. As Robin stuck his head out and squinted into the distance Grima reached out with his senses, detecting what seemed to be a band of bandits waging havoc at the town gate - and, more importantly, three familiar figures approaching the town at a rapid pace.

"The town's under attack," Robin muttered, pulling on one of the coats dangling from a wall hook and grabbing the two tomes on the table. He hesitated, looking between them for a moment before tossing the Flux one to Grima. "This one is yours, right?"

Grima nodded, turning the tome around in his hands as he tried to remember the typical amount of power wielded by a skilled human mage. "Let's go."

* * *

_"Need any help? I bet it's hard to figure out power levels when the only reference you have is 'godlike'."_

_"Silence."_

* * *

Metal clashed against bloodstained metal; flames licked hungrily at wooden buildings, smoke billowed into the sky, and the scent of blood hung heavy in the air. And then there were the screams - the screams of the dying, the wounded, the frightened, the bloodthirsty.

He had always been...not interested, but perhaps _intrigued_ by the human scream - a unique, beautiful, fleeting thing born of pure emotion. Joy. Exhilaration. Determination. Sorrow. Anger. Pain. Humans were truly at the peak of their humanity when at the height of their emotions, and what better way to bring out those emotions than the unending cycle of aggressor and victim, hunter and prey?

His vessel had never agreed and it seemed amnesia hadn't changed anything in that regard; even now Robin's face was set in a determined expression. And yet in pursuing the punishment of those at fault he himself would take his own place in the cycle, bearing the mantle of the hunter as he struck down the aggressors-turned-prey. Grima supposed it was hardly fair to expect differently from someone who was as good as human; for all their pretty words about peace and progress there was little that could suppress their natural predisposition to conflict.

* * *

Robin didn't know what sorts of things he did in the past, but he was pretty sure rushing headlong into a bandit raid with a book and no clue if he could use it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.

He ducked out of the way as an axeman tried to smash his head in and raised a hand, breathing a sigh of relief as his magic responded and a weak bolt of lightning struck the bandit in the chest. The man staggered backwards; before he could recover a second lightning bolt to the head killed him instantly. Immediately Robin threw himself to one side, just in time to avoid a stab from the swordsman who'd been hidden behind the axeman's bulk. The next stab flew wide as it collided with Robin's lightning, the swordsman yelping as electricity surged down the blade into his arm; Robin's next spell hit him right in the heart and he dropped like a stone.

"How's your magic?" Rook called from the other side of the street.

"It's fine. Or at least I remember how to use it." Robin turned and blinked at the sight of his brother standing beside a small pile of corpses. "Er...what happened here?" He'd been looking away for only a few moments!

"They tried to ambush us from behind," Rook said with a shrug. "Or charge us noisily from behind if you want to be more accurate."

"I...see..." He shuddered as he looked down at the dead bandits - the men he'd just killed had burns where they'd been struck by lightning but the ones his brother killed were completely unmarked. It was like they'd randomly toppled over and died of no reason; some of them still had expressions of bloodthirsty anticipation on their faces.

He quickly turned away and forced himself back into the situation. "It sounds like someone's fighting the bandits in the town square so we should probably go help them. The innkeeper said the alleyways all connect to each other so we can double around and strike the bandits from the side while they're distracted." Belatedly he realized he was giving instructions to his brother, the one who was likely more powerful and actually had more than a few minutes' worth of memories. "What do you think?"

"As good a plan as any." Rook frowned in the direction of the square, a strange expression on his face. "We should split up to cover more ground since there's probably more bandits in the side streets too. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah." Robin took a deep breath and ran his palm over the cover of his tome, feeling his magic spark at the connection. "Be careful."

Rook shot him what was probably supposed to be a smile but came out more like a grimace. "I should be the one saying that to you. Try not to faint again, alright?" He disappeared into a side street before Robin could respond.

That was probably for the best - Robin wasn't sure how he could have retorted seeing as he'd actually passed out earlier...and lost all his memories in the process.

* * *

_"Wait, I have amnesia and you're leaving me alone in a town full of bandits? What a great brother, you really make me feel loved."_

_"Silence."_


	3. First Meeting

**AN:** After this there are two more chapters which should be posted by the end this weekend, but then updates will be slowing down due to school. This chapter's mostly unchanged, the only additions are the dialogue sections in the middle and end, but the next chapter is mostly new writing.

* * *

:: **First Meeting** ::

* * *

Chrom dodged a fireball and buried Falchion in the mage's stomach, barely stopping as he ripped the blade free to parry a swinging axe. The curved edge of the axe skittered down Falchion with an earsplitting screech and hooked itself on the sword; the bandit yanked, trying to pull Chrom off balance, but Chrom moved with the pull and twisted his grip to force the axe away and stab Falchion through the man's neck.

An arrow thumped into the wall beside his right ear and he clamped down on the instinctive urge to flinch away, instead ducking to the right as another arrow flew through where he'd be had he gone the opposite way. A quick look around revealed the archer kneeling behind an overturned cart - no, not the archer but rather the archer's newly killed corpse. Frederick was already running towards another bandit lance-first and Chrom took advantage of the brief respite to catch his breath.

"How many of them _are_ there?" Lissa grumbled from where she crouched behind an abandoned fruit stand. "Is there a recruitment campaign for bandits or something?"

"Poor circumstances and desperation often drive good men to vile acts," Chrom said sternly as he dropped into a defensive stance - a bandit had noticed him and was charging forward with a raised sword. "And Plegian citizens are nothing if not desperate nowadays. For now we can only try to minimize the damage done on our side of the border."

His sister made an agreeable sound and the approaching bandit gaped, right before an apple smashed into the side of the swordsman's head. Chrom used the moment of distraction to close the distance and dispatch the man without trouble, shooting Lissa a bemused glance. Lissa shrugged and picked up another apple, tossing it into the air and using her staff to whack it at a bandit attempting to sneak up on Frederick.

The apple collided with a loud CRACK and the bandit toppled over, leaving both siblings gaping in astonishment and a young man blinking owlishly at the fruit bouncing around his feet. The glow was just beginning to fade from the Thunder tome in his hands and closer inspection of the fallen bandit revealed burns consistent with a lightning strike, confirming that Lissa hadn't just made her first kill with an apple.

"Oops. Sorry about that," Lissa said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," the stranger said with an amused smile. "For what it's worth I think that's a really good idea, catching them off guard with something they don't expect. Just be careful when they- BEHIND YOU!"

Lissa scrambled away from the stand, narrowly avoiding the axe about to cleave her in two. Chrom rushed the bandit, who barely managed to get the axe back up in time to intercept Falchion's swing and stumbled back. A burst of lightning exploded in the vicinity of the man's legs, toppling him over and letting Chrom drive Falchion into his chest.

"You have my thanks." Chrom gave the mage a grateful smile as he scanned the area for more bandits, relaxing only when he saw Frederick approaching at a casual pace.

The knight nodded briefly in greeting, giving the mage a brief once-over. Apparently satisfied this man was no enemy, he turned to Chrom and gestured towards the largest street leading out of the square. "Milord, the bandits' leader appears to have barricaded himself in the chapel with at least two hostages."

Chrom scowled. "Damn them. We'll have to move carefully - rescuing those hostages is our top priority." He turned to the young man. "Will you help us?"

"Of course."

* * *

_"I remember this battle.__"_

_"Congratulations, you don't have amnesia."_

_"Ooh, you have a sense of humor now? This time period's doing wonders for your personality. Anyway, if things are like they were last time then the chief bandit's at the chapel with a mother and child. We managed to save the mother, but...you can save both."  
_

_..._

_"Are you listening? Think about it, they'll be more likely to trust you if you do."_

_"Do you want them to trust me?"_

_"No, but I have time. That baby does not."_

* * *

Chrom glared, actively trying to stare the bandit into oblivion as he reluctantly let Falchion drop to the ground. The others followed his example after a moment's pause, a silver lance, healing staff, and slightly worn tome joining the fabled blade in the dirt.

"There we go. Good job, sheepy."

The bandit grinned, greedy eyes drinking in the weapons. Chrom could practically see the man's brain calculating their worth, though it didn't seem like he recognized Falchion. It was just as well; let him think they were just another band of traveling warriors, albeit one slightly better equipped than the average mercenary band. This way he might let down his guard and give them a chance to catch him by surprise; he'd probably be more careful if he knew two of them were royalty and one an elite knight.

Behind Chrom one of the hostages, a young woman, sobbed quietly as Lissa attempted to comfort her. The other hostage lay on a bench beside the bandit - a baby who couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, squirming and staring curiously at the man towering above it. The threat was clear: pick up their weapons or make one aggressive move and the baby would die.

Chrom growled and glanced at his companions, seeing his frustration mirrored in their expressions. The mage - they hadn't had a chance to exchange names - in particular seemed to be searching for a way to turn things around, eyes moving rapidly around the clearing. Chrom appreciated the effort but in truth there was nothing he could see that might help - the four of them were on one side of a stone bridge while the bandit and baby were on the other. Anything they did gave the bandit ample warning to act.

Unless...perhaps the bandit might be willing to negotiate if he knew who he was dealing with? It was a long shot but worth a try; in any case, perhaps the mage could strike while the man's attention was on Chrom.

Chrom stepped forward and opened his mouth - only to freeze as a slim figure appeared from behind the chapel.

The newcomer was identical to the first mage in appearance and almost identical in clothing, but the dark purple tome tucked under his arm wasn't nearly as reassuring. Chrom didn't know much about magic but it was common knowledge that purple tomes were exclusively for Dark magic, a forbidden arcane branch freely practiced only in Plegia.

Still, this dark mage was very obviously the brother or at least close relative of the man who'd been helping them so he was probably an ally.

The dark mage glanced at Chrom before turning to the bandit and raising his hands. An orb of dark magic formed between his palms and dripped down in long tendrils, disappearing into the ground like tainted rain. The bandit noticed the direction of Chrom's gaze, beginning to turn - and dark energy silently erupted from beneath his feet and wrapped around him, dissipating almost as abruptly as it'd appeared. His dead body remained standing a moment more before falling over, face still set in a triumphant grin.

Chrom winced. Plegia was a very secretive country and prided itself on its monopoly of Dark magic - he'd never witnessed dark mages in action before but now he suddenly had a better understanding of why they'd been so feared during the war. Frederick appeared to be thinking along the same lines, the wary knight turning to the newcomer with a guarded expression, and even Lissa appeared uncertain after the unsettling display.

"Rook!" The lightning-wielding mage yelled with a relieved smile. "Are you okay?" As if flipping a switch his words shocked the rest of them out of immobility; they retrieved their weapons while the baby's mother dashed across the bridge and grabbed her child, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It'll take more than this to kill me," the man - Rook - said with a snort, giving the fallen bandit a dismissive glance. "Who are your new friends?"

The mage opened his mouth, then closed it and gave them a quizzical look.

"My name is Chrom," Chrom said with a friendly smile - unnerving magic or not this man had proved himself a friend - and gestured at Lissa. "This is my sister Lissa."

"Heya!" Lissa waved.

"And this is Frederick." Seeing the knight still eyeing Rook suspiciously Chrom quickly added, "Or Frederick the Wary, as he is often known."

"A title I wear with pride," Frederick said solemnly, nodding at both mages. "But nonetheless, I believe you have both earned my thanks."

"It's nice to meet you; my name is Robin and this is my brother Rook," The newly named Robin smiled, seemingly unfazed by Frederick's careful scrutiny. Meanwhile Rook studied them with a thoughtful expression, watching Chrom sheathe Falchion before glancing at the brand prominently displayed on Chrom's shoulder.

"You wouldn't happen to be the Exalt's siblings, would you?"

Robin blinked. "The Exalt? As in the ruler of Ylisse?"

Chrom ignored Frederick's sharp look. "Indeed we are, though I'd appreciate it if you don't treat us any differently because of it. I've never been one for formalities...and in any case unless I am mistaken neither of you are Ylissean." He kept his tone mild and carefully free of judgment - his personal opinion of Plegia had no bearing on ordinary Plegians, especially not ones who'd just provided great assistance in battle.

"No," Rook agreed amiably with a not-quite smile. "But we're taking a break from home for the moment. I heard the weather in Ylisse is rainy this time of the year." The last sentence was accompanied by an extremely over-exaggerated expression of wistfulness, startling Chrom into a laugh.

"You definitely heard correctly." Lissa made an equally exaggerated face of suffering and mimed shaking herself off like a dog. "Sleeping outside after it rains is the WORST. All those worms! Blaargh!"

Even Frederick chuckled at the princess's pout and opened his mouth, presumably to give another lecture on building character, but he was interrupted by the baby's mother suddenly pulling a startled Rook into a one-armed hug.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" The woman's tears were gone by now but her eyes still shone with moisture as she released Rook and pressed a small pouch into his hands. "I don't know how I can ever repay you. Please, at least take this small token and allow me to offer all of you a good meal."

"I...I apologize, but we'll have to decline," Rook said uncertainly, shooting Robin a pleading glance. Robin raised an eyebrow but stepped forward anyway.

"Indeed, it is getting late and we should be on the road. Worry not though, I promise he will take you up on your offer the next time we pass through. For now you should rest and concentrate on yourself and your child."

The woman hesitated, looking conflicted, but in the end motherly concern won out over determination to repay a stranger and once Rook promised to accept whatever was in the pouch she gave them all one more bow and hurried away.

Frederick cleared his throat once she was out of sight, looking up at the sky. "Milord, milady, may I suggest we get going as well? As Robin noted it is indeed growing late."

"Aye." Chrom stretched, grunting at the familiar ache of well-exercised muscles. "Robin, Rook, we will be returning to the capital if you'd like to travel with us."

Robin frowned. "Is that alright? We don't want to intrude..."

"It's fine," Lissa interjected. "The more the merrier, right?" She glanced at Chrom, who nodded in agreement, and Frederick, who simply watched with a neutral expression.

"Well...in that case we'd be happy to join you. Rook?"

Rook put away his tome and simply nodded.

* * *

_"All these years of trying to throw you off balance, and all I had to do was get a crying girl to hug you?_"

_"Silence."_


	4. Intersection

**AN:** Sorry about the wait, got caught up in midterms and SWTOR. I really should look at my schedule more closely before (re)starting writing projects...

The spell Grima uses in this chapter is Worm, which depending on the game can have the range of a regular tome or a range of 3 to 10 tiles. It basically summons a swarm of flying kamikaze centipedes and I'm very disappointed this tome wasn't in Awakening because I would've definitely made it Henry's signature move, but I guess I can settle for giving it to Grima.

To the guest review: Robin x Rook...heh, that's either a very strange case of pseudo-incest and pseudo-narcissism or a marvelous example of Stockholm Syndrome.

* * *

:: **Intersection** ::

* * *

_Bloody teeth snapped at armor-scaled flesh; flames licked hungrily at tattered wings, ashen smoke billowed into the sky, and the scent of blood hung heavy in the air. __The heavens cried. The earth raged. And before them all, humanity rose._

_You, defeat me? Don't make me laugh._

_"In the name of the exalted blood, I ask for the divine dragon's power!"_

_Come, show me the new depths to which mankind has fallen!_

_"You won't win!"_

__Shall we have a wager? Let us see how high your precious humans can strike!__

__"You've underestimated me, Grima!"__

_FOOLISH HUMANS...I WILL KILL YOU ALL!_

__He closed his eyes____ to the sound of screams - the screams of the forgotten, the wounded, ____the maddened, the dead.__

Grima opened his eyes.

In his own time he had never slept, roaming the world at leisure in both vessel and body. The needs of his mortal shell had been satisfied by his power and his true body, the two connected through the linking of his soul. In this time, trapped in this form with most of his power out of reach, he had no choice but to rest. It was an unexpected consequence of having sealed away so much of his power so thoroughly, but despite the inconvenience it helped greatly with his human facade.

Grima was willing to make many sacrifices and deal with countless inconveniences for the sake of his goal.

This would never be one of them.

He reached for the barrier which sealed away what remained of his strength and carefully released a tiny sliver, just enough to negate his body's requirement for sleep. Energy rushed through his limbs and chased away the day's fatigue.

It was a negligible amount, a mere drop of water in the ocean he once wielded, but in this world where a true dragon's power existed only in ancient memory he might as well have released a flood. The forest stilled; further down the road the two royal siblings looked around warily as silence fell all around them. Frederick shivered in his sleep, the human's senses rebelling at their proximity to the source of such power. Robin rolled closer to Grima as his blood instinctively reached for its master, the fingers of his Marked hand brushing Grima's coat.

The earth shuddered as it roused from its hibernation, ready to serve its long forgotten kin. The heavens responded with a defiant roar, violently tearing apart the seams of time and space.

* * *

Robin still had less than one day of memories but so far he'd barreled headfirst into a bandit raid and struck up a friendly alliance with the prince and princess of his homeland's rival halidom. Now it was raining meteors and monsters and masked swordsmen, the sky was glowing with what looked like archaic runes, and they were fighting for their lives. Again.

"Is this normal?" Robin raised his voice to be heard over the chaos as he blasted a creature in the head. A glance at Rook confirmed the dark mage looked more exasperated and maybe annoyed than anything else. "If it is I'm really surprised human society's still standing."

"I wouldn't call this _normal_," Rook said blandly. Robin waited for him to elaborate but instead he quietly recited a quick spell and summoned a small orb of dark magic, idly rolling it between his fingers before crushing it in his fist.

Energy swirled around him in tiny bursts, congealing into what looked like a swarm of large bugs made entirely of black energy. It flew off and clustered around a monster, which quickly deflated and melted away; the swarm hovered for a moment, drawing the black smoke into itself, then buzzed off towards the next opponent.

Frederick's lance slashed through the bugs, which easily burst apart but rapidly reformed moments later; the knight raised his weapon for a second try, then frowned and shot Rook a suspicious look. Rook smiled innocently and held up his tome, flipping it open to a page with an elaborate illustration depicting the same swarm currently dancing merrily through the trees. Frederick sighed and turned his attention back to the monsters, though Robin noticed he was careful to keep the bugs in sight.

* * *

_"I hate that spell. Those things are_ creepy_. I'm going to have nightmares, I just know it._"

_"You seem to be handling the sight well enough."_

_"Him-me is_ _not me-me. Well, yes he is. But he's distracted. I'll probably stop freaking out if I had a whole forest of Risen to fight too!"_

_"Nice try."_

_"Pbbbbt."_

* * *

Was it possible to blow a raspberry when one had no physical tongue to do it with? Grima wriggled his tongue around in his mouth, considering the question with much more solemnity than he might normally give it as he watched the humans around him and cast spells where needed.

Grima and Robin had teamed up with Chrom, swiftly cutting into the undead horde with magic and blade. Frederick stood firmly in front of Lissa, the two of them surrounded by dissipating purple mist. On the opposite side of the clearing the newly arrived Sully and Virion fought furiously against a Risen chieftain. None of them appeared to be having much trouble, so Grima turned his attention away and back to the one stubborn human who'd made his downfall her ultimate goal.

Although at the moment she seemed more intent on exterminating the forest than exterminating his life.

Grima watched yet another tree crash to the ground, having fallen victim to Falchion's swings. Blessed or not, Falchion was an unwieldy blade - it was no coincidence that both Chrom and Lucina were notorious for inflicting impossible amounts of collateral damage during training.

* * *

Lucina silently muttered an uncharacteristic curse as she decapitated a Risen only to find Falchion embedded in yet another tree trunk. With a powerful yank she pulled it out - fortunately she hadn't cut deep enough to fell the tree this time - and dodged to the side as another Risen tried to take advantage of her temporary vulnerability. She easily parried the following sword swing, forced the weapon wide, and stabbed the Risen in its unbeating heart.

In her own time the great forests of Ylisse had been reduced to mere shadows of their former glory, the ancient trees either destroyed by fighting or cut down for firewood and weapons. Accustomed to fighting on fields of sharp debris and across barren landscapes with ash and smoke thick in the air, Lucina now moved slower than she'd normally even think about doing as she tried to navigate this unfamiliar battlefield.

She'd just arrived in the past and already there was a potentially fatal problem they'd managed to overlook despite all their efforts to prepare. They'd known this wouldn't be easy, but...

Lucina shot a surreptitious glance at her father - her father! - and tried to gauge how he was handling the limited space.

Chrom fought with small swings and stabs, keeping Falchion closer to his body than he normally did. Any potential loss in efficiency was negated by his companions' magic, the combined might of dark and lightning spells easily taking down enemies beyond his range.

Perhaps if she had even one of her friends by her side...but there was no sense in wishing. Lucina adjusted her grip on Falchion, shifted her stance and jumped back into the fray.

* * *

_"You're being oddly quiet."_

_"Have you finally realized what a stunning conversationalist I am? Or are you just so bored you'll take any distraction you can get?"_

_"The second."_

_"You wound me__. Meanie."_

_"I see you're as mature as ever."_

_"Just for you, Grima. Just for you."_

_"Is that so?"_

_"Why do you sound so-what- no! No, I'm not- gah, that is_ not_ an image I need right now. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Don't lie to me, I _feel_ your amusement! Ugh, I'm going to be sick...do you mind if I throw up in your brain? Hey, you started it so don't ignore me! I will-"_

_"Are you worried about the children?"_

_"-so let me tell you...huh? No, I-"_

_"There is no need to deny it; in our future they have all grown to exceed even your highest expectations. To see Lucina now, fighting at the side of her similarly-aged father, it is only natural you'd wonder how they'd fit into this world of the past. Our presence here compounds that worry exponentially."_

_"...and what about you? They came here to keep you napping. If - no, when - they discover who you are they'll stop you, one way or another."_

_"Of course."_

_"...what?"_

_"The humans, not you, will be the ones to stop me. With the future and past reunited that, at least, is a promised outcome."_

_"What...what are you saying?"_

_..._

_"Grima? Hey, Grima! Damn dragons and their cryptic speeches..."_


	5. Arrival

**AN:** Fun fact, the word 'grima' means 'mask' in Old English/Norse. As a huge LOTR fan I'm very disappointed I never realized Grima shared a name with Wormtongue until now...

To guest review 'Apotheosis': Oh wow, thank you! Without going into details, Grima and future!Robin have a very...interesting relationship that has more to do with Grima's nature as a giant demonic god-dragon and less to do with Grima himself. There's a _lot_ going on behind their bantering.

* * *

::** Arrival **::**  
**

* * *

"Healers of the mind?" Chrom frowned. "I can't say I know of any, but I'm sure you can find someone if you ask around. May I inquire as to why...?"

"There was an incident not very long ago that caused me to lose some of my memories," Robin said half-truthfully. The 'Shepherds' - as they'd introduced their group as over a breakfast of leftover bear meat - were nice enough but he was not entirely comfortable with revealing the true extent of his memory loss. "Rook's been doing his best to help but I was hoping to find a way to reverse the amnesia."

"You should be careful," Lissa jumped in with an uncharacteristically solemn expression. "Only super powerful healers can affect the mind and even then there's always a catch of some kind. We're not supposed to mess with memories since chances are we'll probably end up making things worse."

"I...suppose that makes sense," Robin sighed. Noticing everyone's concerned expressions, he put on a cheerful smile. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll be fine. I just thought it wouldn't hurt to ask."

It was the afternoon after the skirmish in the forest and their small group was on the road once more. The knight and archer who'd helped them - Sully and Virion, Chrom had introduced them as - had gone to check on some nearby villages, leaving the two pairs of siblings and one knight quickly making their way to the capital. To everyone's relief the previous night's devastation seemed to have been limited to the forest, with the plains around them obviously untouched by earthquakes or meteors, though Robin had to wonder how such a thing was even possible.

He'd expressed his disbelief to Rook, who'd simply said "It's magic." Even now, after hours of thinking, Robin couldn't think of anything to refute that.

"We should arrive in Ylisstol before dark," Chrom said, turning around to walk backwards as he addressed the twins. "Do you two have any plans?"

"We were thinking about getting a room and just relaxing for a while," Robin said, glancing at Rook for confirmation. When his brother nodded he continued, "We'll stay for a few days, maybe do some jobs for money before moving on. See where the road takes us and stuff."

"I see..." Chrom nodded, looking deep in thought. Then, "Do you want to join the Shepherds?"

Robin blinked. "What?"

The prince hesitated, then pressed on with a determined expression. "Would you like to join us? I realize this is a lot to ask and of course you need not answer immediately, but know that our doors will always be open. That you are not Ylissean is not a problem as long as you swear you mean no harm to the halidom. After everything you did yesterday I will vouch for both of you myself."

Further down the road Frederick turned with a mild frown but didn't say anything; Lissa perked up and bounced lightly on the soles of her feet, looking eagerly between Robin and Rook.

Robin opened his mouth, then shut it and frowned. He had no memories and despite Rook's presence often found himself lost in a world that seemed much too big; for him the thought of joining the Shepherds was a welcome one. But then there was Rook - his twin brother, who'd been with him from the moment he woke up. Was it fair of Robin to force Rook to stay in Ylisse? Robin wasn't blind, he could see the way the Shepherds sometimes unconsciously tensed around Rook and their uneasiness at Rook's spells, both at the town and in the forest, was obvious.

Dark magic was a uniquely Plegian art, one had been used to great effect against Ylisse during the war, and many Ylisseans were naturally wary of it. As much as Robin wanted to accept Chrom's offer, he didn't want Rook to feel obligated to remain in a place where he could very well be shunned by most of the populace.

"May we have some time to think about it?"

"Of course." Chrom smiled reassuringly and quickened his pace to catch up with Frederick. Lissa followed him a moment later, leaving the brothers walking side-by-side.

"You're interested in joining," Rook said once the royal siblings were out of earshot. It wasn't a question.

"...I am," Robin admitted. "But what about you? I don't want to force you into anything, and with your magic..."

"Don't worry about it," Rook waved a hand as though brushing the concern aside. "I've actually been considering settling down in Ylisse, at least for a little while. The atmosphere here is...very different from Plegia. In any case, Plegia is hardly the best of places right now with the king drafting all dark mages into the army."

"The king..._what_?"

"Did I not tell you?" Rook frowned at Robin's nonplussed expression. "Apparently not. Rumors say that King Gangrel is trying to start another war with Ylisse. I don't know how much truth there is in that, but soldiers have been going around the villages rounding up anyone with magical power and testing them for abilities in dark magic. Personally I'd prefer to avoid being tied down by military duties..." Here he paused and glanced at the three Ylisseans walking ahead of them. "...regardless of what nation I'm serving."

"So you won't accept, then?" Robin said softly, feeling his heart sink. His emotions must have shown on his face, since Rook quickly hurried to reassure him.

"No, but that doesn't mean I'll be leaving either. It would be good to take a break from traveling for a while, and in any case I've rather missed living in a city." He smiled as though enjoying a private joke. "If you really want to join them don't let me stop you."

"If you say so..."

* * *

_"So you're really not joining them..."_

_"You seem disappointed."_

_"Heh, maybe a little. Can you blame me?"_

* * *

Lucina garnered a few curious glances as she walked through the city gates; most of them were drawn to Falchion's sheath, which she had wrapped in strips of cloth until it resembled nothing so much as a bulky tube with a hilt sticking out of it. Perhaps she was being ridiculous but she couldn't risk rumors spreading of a stranger wielding a second Falchion, at least not at the moment.

She had done her best to prepare herself before traveling back, obsessively reading all of Laurent's books in an effort to understand the old world and lessen the shock of immersing herself in it. None of her studies had been enough to prepare her for the sight of a bustling Ylisstol filled with beautiful buildings and smiling citizens with the Exalt's Castle rising above it all, its walls pristine and unmarred.

Ylisstol was...alive.

Lucina shuddered slightly as she gazed at the flag billowing proudly at the top of the castle, the brand on it identical to the one in her eye. Had it only been a few days ago that she sprinted across the ashen debris-field that surrounded that very same castle, hacking her way through a horde of Risen as she and her companions struggled to fight their way south in search of the Outrealm Gate? And barely more than a day had passed since she'd arrived in this world, yet already she had rescued her Aunt Lissa, fought beside members of the legendary Shepherds, and exchanged words with her father.

Lucina had always been someone who never hesitated to take action and her speed in battle was exceeded only by the wings of Cynthia and Gerome's mounts, yet right now all she wanted to do was scream at the world to _stop_. If events moved so quickly in this time of the past how could she keep up as it raced towards its final destination?

No. _No._ She was here to make sure that final destination would never be an option. So what if her head whirled with new sensations and buried emotions? So what if she couldn't keep up with the events of this time stream? She didn't need to keep pace with them, merely seek out the critical points and strike. If it meant keeping herself distant and aloof so be it. She wasn't here to write the past, only to erase the future. There was no need for her to immerse herself to such an extent again until it was absolutely necessary, and in the meantime she would try to adjust to this past world.

She nodded to herself, steeling her momentarily wavering nerves, only to frown as her thoughts naturally went back to the battle in the forest. She hadn't thought much of it before but those two mages who'd been fighting with her father... One of them was almost certainly Robin, her father's famed tactician, but what of the other?

A close relative? Perhaps twin brothers, if their similar appearances were anything to go by. Lucina normally did her best to avoid thinking too much about the past, especially when it came to Robin, but now she dove into the fuzzy memories of her early childhood as she attempted to figure out more about the dark mage from last night.

Robin's children - Lucina quashed the uneasy feeling that rose at the thought of Morgan - had never mentioned an uncle, nor could Lucina remember ever meeting Robin's brother. Perhaps he had died before she was old enough to remember him? Robin wouldn't have talked about a dead relative with his lord's young daughter after all. And in any case, Lucina knew practically nothing about most of the Shepherds outside of her immediate relatives; that she didn't know about Robin's brother shouldn't have been odd.

Yet if the battle in the forest was anything to go by the man was likely a member of the Shepherds and wielded magic with a skill equal to or greater than Robin, who in her time had been known as one of Ylisse's greatest mages. Surely she should've heard of him somewhere?

Immersed in her thoughts, Lucina found herself caught off guard as she turned a corner to find herself face to face with the subject of her musings.

The man blinked at her, recognition sparking in his eyes. "You are...Marth, was it?"

"Yes..." Lucina inwardly winced as her voice came out higher than even her usual tone; she coughed and continued in 'Marth's' voice. "And you are..."

"I'm Rook." The newly named Rook held out a hand; after a moment's hesitation Lucina shook it with her firmest grip. If Rook noticed the slimness of her hand he didn't say anything and merely continued, "You actually ran into me at the perfect time. If it's not too much, could I ask you a favor?"

"A favor?" Lucina was immediately on guard - if there was one thing she knew about this time period, it was that asking favors of complete strangers was a rare thing unless it involved fighting.

Once again Rook turned her expectations upside down. "My brother was recently admitted into the Shepherds," he said with a small but fond smile. "I'm thinking about surprising him with a sword as a congratulatory present but I'm afraid I don't have much experience in buying such things."

"Is that so..." Lucina looked around, noticing for the first time the workshops which dominated this part of the city. Silently she digested Rook's words - Robin had been admitted into the Shepherds, yet it was implied that Rook had not. Perhaps she had never heard of him in the future simply because he wasn't a Shepherd?

"Yes. He's been thinking about learning swordplay for a while but never really got around to it," Rook rolled his eyes. "He keeps saying we don't have the time or money to hire a teacher. Personally I think he's just lazy. If I give him a sword he has no excuse for slacking off now."

"I see." Truth be told Lucina had little experience in picking out quality blades herself, a side effect of exclusively wielding Falchion that she'd never had reason to rectify. She thought back to the research she'd done, trying to remember if there had been any books that dealt with weapons. "Will you be ordering a custom weapon?"

Rook hummed thoughtfully. "I believe it'd be best to go with something already made for now. There's no use dropping good gold for an expensive blade only to have it break because Robin doesn't know how to use it," he shook his head with a sigh and shot her a pleading look. "I apologize, but could you help me pick out something suitable?"

She shouldn't get involved. She should keep her distance until interference was critical.

But Rook wasn't a Shepherd and this was a minor thing at most. It would do Robin no good if his sword broke in battle because Rook chose a weapon she could've warned him away from. Perhaps it would be alright?

* * *

Grima had left the group at the castle gates after wishing Robin good luck and promising to send a message once he'd found lodgings, smiling apologetically in the face of Chrom and Lissa's insistence that he wouldn't be intruding. Perhaps he was being more distant than expected of someone whose brother had lost all memories only one day ago, but Robin - already a Plegian and thus sure to be under careful scrutiny - would have an easier time being accepted at court if there wasn't an unaffiliated dark mage with him when introductions were made.

The heart could not grow if the master lingered at its side; for this reason Grima would not interfere with Robin's place among the Shepherds.

Interfering with the future, on the other hand...that he could do.


	6. At the Market

::** At the Market **::

* * *

Grima had never had any reason to examine the bits of sharpened metal that most humans preferred as weapons simply because the vast majority posed him no threat. The only weapons which truly stood out to him were those forged to indestructibility and imbued with great power, weapons a human might call 'legendary' or 'heroic'. For a moment he honestly considered simply purchasing a random sword and using his power to temper the blade until its might was on par with the Awakened Falchion, if only to save himself the tedium of testing weapon after weapon until he encountered one that was perhaps a little less flimsy than the rest.

Just in time he remembered he was trying to encourage his vessel to grow and become stronger, something that would never happen if he coddled Robin all the time, and resigned himself to shopping.

* * *

_"I wouldn't mind having my own legendary sword. You should tie a spell to it too! It'll make a great strategy, enemies see a lone swordsman and think he'll be easy pickings but nope! Dark magic from out of nowhere! Or mutant dragon magic. Same difference."_

_"Robin."_

_"Alright alright, I'll stop talking."_

* * *

_"Can I go to the market, Father? Please? I want to buy Mother a birthday present too!"_

_Her father laughed, ruffling her hair and making it stick up all over the place. Lucina pouted as she tried to pat it back down. Mother's hair was always so neat and pretty, even after flying in heavy winds, but Lucina's hair flopped everywhere if she didn't hold it in place with a circlet of some kind._

_"I don't see why not," Chrom said, looking highly amused by Lucina's plight. Then, to the man standing beside him, "Do you mind taking her since you're here? I need to meet with the councilors in a bit."_

_"No problem," Robin said cheerfully. "But remember we still have some work to do, so don't think this means you're free of me."_

_"That's a shame," Chrom chuckled._

_Her joy at being given permission instantly evaporated as Lucina frowned at her father, suddenly very disappointed. Robin was nice and funny, even if she didn't like his kids very much. Morgan was Cynthia's age, way too young to be any fun, and Inigo was weird and couldn't talk to anyone outside his family without stuttering and turning red. "Why do you want to be free of Robin?"_

_Both men looked at her, then glanced at each other and broke out in identical grins._

_"She's adorable."_

_"Isn't she?"_

_Lucina crossed her arms and huffed, finally realizing they were joking. Adult humor was weird. "Are we leaving yet?"_

_"Alright, I'm coming," Robin laughed as he stepped off the dais. Lucina quickly hopped after him, spirits lifting again when he pulled out a few pieces of candy from somewhere in his coat. "Here princess, I was planning to give these to Inigo but I don't think he'll mind sharing."_

_"Thank you!" Lucina chirped, cradling the candy in her hands. She then shot her father a guilty look, but Chrom just shook his head with a resigned smile and made a shooing motion with his hand._

_"Get out of here, Robin."_

_"Yes Sire," Robin sang, leading Lucina out of the room._

* * *

Looking for a weapon as an equal with Rook was not like gawking at baubles as a young child while Robin supervised.

Maybe it was their obvious physical similarities, or perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't had a shopping trip in so long; either way, she still found herself comparing them.

_"What do you think about this?"_ _Robin asked, holding out a statuette he'd picked out from the stall._

_Lucina took the statuette and turned it around in her hands, marveling at how detailed the carved pegasus was. "I think Cynthia will like it!"_

_"Oh?" Robin hummed thoughtfully. "I thought we were shopping for your mother?"_

_"Yeah, but Mother already has Maddles! She doesn't need another pegasus, they'll just get jealous of each other."_

_"I see! That makes sense," Robin took the statuette back and returned it to the stall, exchanging amused looks with the merchant._

"What do you think about this?" Rook asked, holding out a sword he'd picked out from the rack.

Lucina took the sword and turned it around in her hands, silently marveling at how light it felt compared to the familiar weight of Falchion. It would be a good sword for Owain, whose swordplay was centered on speed and agility.

She stepped back and performed a few basic katas, the ones Owain and Inigo and Severa would practice with her because they were universal to all swords and not just Falchion. The weapon was unfamiliar in her hands, her movements slower than usual, but even beyond all that...

"The balance is very slightly off," Lucina said with a small frown. "It's not readily noticeable and I doubt it'll make much difference, but I also question the wisdom of allowing your brother to grow accustomed to an unbalanced blade regardless of how slight it may be."

Rook nodded and took the sword back, weighing it in his hand before replacing it on the rack.

Lucina watched him move down the aisle, examining the swords with an expression that suggested they were all the same to him and he had no clue what he was doing, and finally voiced something she'd been wondering since they began their armory hopping.

"From what I've seen, you and your brother are both skilled mages. Why would he begin using a sword now when he'd make far better progress by focusing on magic?"

"Versatility."

"He seems...a bit old to begin learning something so different from what he is used to."

"He'll never be a master swordsman," Rook said with a shrug. "But that means little in the long run."

Not having anything to say to that, Lucina simply nodded and turned back to the weapons.

"Here, how about this one?"

* * *

The sky was beginning to darken by the time they finally left an armory with a brand new sword strapped to Rook's back. They walked down the street in silence, weaving around workers on their way home or to the taverns; Lucina glanced at Rook a few times, wondering if she should begin a conversation, but he appeared lost in thought.

Well, she had enjoyed their outing more than she'd expected but it was beyond time to part ways. She opened her mouth to excuse herself, mentally weaving a half-truth about having places to go, but then Rook turned to look at a bookstore window and narrowly avoided a collision with a bespectacled mage who happened to be leaving the store at the same time.

Lucina gaped, hardly believing her luck as the two men exchanged quiet apologies and shuffled around to get out of each other's path.

"_Laurent?_"

The man's head jerked up and he stared at her with disbelieving eyes.

"Lu- Marth! It has been much too long," Laurent greeted her with a bright smile. He hurried over and took her hand with both of his, squeezing tightly with the exuberance of someone reuniting with a good friend and ally after a long absence. "Although I postulated that remaining in Ylisstol would increase the chances of a contemporaneous encounter, after all this time I was about to give up hope. I am truly glad to see you."

"It has been...much too long..." Lucina echoed quietly, carefully keeping her face calm even as the troubling implications slowly dawned. Closer examination confirmed that her friend was much taller than he'd been when she last saw him in their own time - had it really only been one day? - and the last vestiges of baby fat was gone from his face to reveal sharp, pointed features and high cheekbones that made him look older than her.

Perhaps he actually was. How far had Naga's spell flung him?

How far had everyone else traveled?

Before she could ask, a soft cough reminded her of their uninvolved audience.

"I take it you two know each other," Rook said politely, looking at Laurent with a curious expression. His gaze lingered on the mage's large, wide-brimmed hat, and unless Lucina was mistaken there was a look of recognition on his face.

Laurent's hat. Miriel's hat. Was it a common piece of clothing that could be picked up at the store or was it one-of-a-kind? Had Miriel woven any spells into it like mages so often did with their clothes, and could Rook sense those spells? Lucina desperately tried to remember if mages were able to distinguish between spells cast by different people. Did Rook even know Miriel at this point in time?

"Indeed," Laurent said, acknowledging Rook with a small nod. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Excuse me," Lucina cut in before anything else was said, inwardly wincing at how abrupt she sounded. But if the choice was between coming across as rude or prematurely meddling with time...someone who should not exist in this world had no reputation to protect. "I apologize, Rook, but I must speak with my friend."

"Of course." The corner of Rook's mouth quirked up in an odd smile. "Thank you for your assistance, Marth. I'll make sure Robin enjoys his new gift."

He bowed and walked away; Laurent waited until the dark mage was lost in the crowd before turning to Lucina with a strange expression.

"That was not Robin."

"No. Come, we should find a quieter place to talk."

* * *

_"You knew he was there."_

...

_"You do realize reuniting Lucina with her friends will only strengthen them, right?"_

_"Is that not what you want?"_

_"We both know that's what _I_ want, and we both know that's not what _you_ want. Not if you want to survive.__"_

_..._

_"Yesterday you said they'll definitely stop you. Today you deliberately guided Lucina to meet up with Laurent.__ Grima, _what are you doing_?__"_

_"You know the answer to that."_

_"I do?"_

_..._

_"Wait, don't tell me...are you serious?"_

...

_"...You're serious. You're really serious."_

_..._

_"But you know, this doesn't change anything. Just because you're not actively trying to exterminate humanity doesn't mean I won't stop you before things ever get that far. I'll save them - and I'll save you and your Morgan too."_

* * *

**AN:** Holy wow this was a hard chapter to write. I should probably note that Laurent x Lucina is NOT a pairing; Lucina actually won't be romantically paired with anyone at all for various reasons.

Sumia's pegasus is 'Maddles', short for 'Madame Shambles'. It's named after the book character she mentions in her A supports with both Robins.

And speaking of Robin, I hope you like future!Robin - the next chapter is almost entirely from his POV.


	7. Introspection

::** Introspection **::**  
**

* * *

Robin would be lying if he said he never made naively idealistic statements. As a tactician - and a major catalyst for the potential end of the world - he tended to be rather pessimistic by nature but few people could spend years serving Chrom without catching some of his faith in the power of bonding and friendship.

Applying those statements to _Grima_, on the other hand...

The dragon hadn't reacted to Robin's spur-of-the-moment declaration, nor did he respond to any poking during the ensuing conversation with Robin's younger self, so with a sigh Robin settled back and turned his attention inwards.

All those years ago - or perhaps all those years in the future, now - he'd begun prodding at his body's new inhabitant once the initial horror had passed, searching for a weak point in the comparatively mild entity who claimed to be one and the same with the giant cackling six-eyed dragon. It had been slow and tedious work, especially considering his inability to sleep as long as Grima was awake (which happened to be always), but after countless months of one-sided arguing, observing, and inane babbling he managed to scrape together a tentative hypothesis of what Grima, the part of Grima in his head, wanted to achieve.

Of course Grima had never bothered to affirm, deny, or even acknowledge it... at least not until now. It wasn't much - for all Robin knew his hypothesis might only have one tiny truth buried in an avalanche of lies - but it was something. He'd crafted whole strategies on less.

He made himself comfortable and began to think.

* * *

_Sightless blue eyes stared blankly at the cracked ceiling; sparks of residual magic danced across a formerly pristine uniform and Falchion lay discarded on the ground like a common sword._

_One step._

_Then another._

_And one more._

_Validar's hold on him had disintegrated in death but standing there, standing above Chrom's body, Robin had never felt so out of control._

_Chrom was dead._

_But...Robin had struggled against Validar the entire time, hadn't he? And over the course of his life Chrom had survived countless would-be fatal injuries, injuries inflicted by people who actively wanted him dead, it stood to reason that he'd survive a wound from someone who didn't want him dead simply because it'd make no sense otherwise._

_All he needed was healing. Robin was no healer, his magic was naturally forged for destruction and would do more ill than good, but surely there was someone in the area who could do something._

_Someone._

_Anyone._

_The world blurred around him, startling him out of his increasingly panicked thoughts. Right. He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to focus._

_Inhale. Exhale._

_Assess the situation and determine the best course of action._

_There will be time to mourn later._

_He stood on the crumbling stone dais, head bowed in a mockery of reverence; it was a position that placed his eyes in perfect alignment with the brand on Chrom's lifeless arm._

_He needed to take the body back, tell the Shepherds what happened and have them retreat..._

_He knelt down and reached out a trembling hand but hesitated, fingers hovering over Chrom's shoulder as he tried to work up the courage to either pick Chrom up or shake him until he woke. A moment later he was spared the effort as his hand moved away, coming down to rest on the jagged burn in Chrom's abdomen._

_The ruined skin was warm under his fingers, infused with familiar magic that sparked at his touch, and oh gods he'd done that, it had been Validar's direction but Robin's hand, the same hand that now lingered on the wound in a bizarre parody of a healer's gentle touch and why was he even doing that-_

_A faint sense of bemusement drifted up from somewhere in his mind and his hand retreated._

_"Why did you kill him?" The voice was soft and inflectionless, neutral in all aspects, and might even be calming if it wasn't coming from _inside his head_. As it was, the reason for Robin's odd hand movements was suddenly all too obvious and of course Validar would do something like this, setting up some kind of failsafe to control him from beyond the grave and rub everything in._

_"Get. Out. Of. My. Head." Robin instinctively went to touch his head as though physical contact would help drive out the intruder; he wasn't surprised when his hands didn't move and instead hung at his side, utterly relaxed. "Let go of me!"_

_"Your head," the voice mused, seeming to linger over the words. "You speak as if we aren't one."_

_"...I knew you were bad news but I never thought you were this crazy." Robin glared at his hand, trying to will his fingers into moving even just a tiny bit. "For future reference, _Father_, parents don't normally say that to their children."_

_There was a long pause; was he imagining things, or did his thumb just twitch? Robin focused his attention on that one finger, concentrating on lifting it up tiny bit by tiny bit..._

_His hand curled into a loose fist._

_"Father... I see." His body stood with inhuman grace, not even blinking as the sudden movement tugged painfully at his wounds, and turned to look at Validar's corpse. "You believe I am a crafted puppeteer created to represent his will beyond death."_

_Robin laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that choked off into something that was part giggle and part sob. There was a strangely comfortable haze drifting over his mind, turning his thoughts slow and sluggish as a hurricane of whirling emotions threatened to burst to the forefront. "What else could you be? A figment of my imagination, perhaps? Maybe this is all a nightmare and it's still yesterday, Chrom's still alive and I'm sleeping with my face in the books again."_

_"...Robin."_

_"Or maybe I'm hallucinating! All the stress was bound to catch up sometime. This is a full blown hallucination with really painful wounds and an accurate depiction of mind control and... and... the smell of burning flesh and... and... and... warm... sticky... blood all over my hands..."_

_"Robin."_

_"I... I... I might not even exist for all I know! You're the one moving my body, can you even call this my body? Do...do I belong here? Maybe I'm a figment of your imagination, just a really self-aware one, and if that's the case I should probably apologize because no one wants to have their identity challenged, trust me I would know, so I'm very sorry Robin - is that your name? Robin? Or maybe that's just me and you're someone else entirely and Robin doesn't exist at all because if I'm just a figment of your imagination I'm probably not-"_

_"ROBIN."_

_Dark shadows whipped through the haze on his thoughts, filaments of pure power wrapping around and digging into him and Robin screamed, struggled with everything he had, but he was like a baby against a giant and within moments he found himself forcibly yanked from the soothing haze and thrown into harsh clarity._

_Panting in an effort to catch his metaphorical breath, Robin prepared to launch a volley of insults - only to freeze as he processed everything he'd said in the past minute. What in Naga's name had he been thinking?_

_There was a short, humorless laugh._

_"What in Naga's name indeed," the voice sighed. "I see the curse hasn't waned with time."_

_"The curse?" Robin frowned. Being the designated vessel of the Fell Dragon was certainly a curse, but he doubted that was what the voice meant. "What are you talking about?"_

_His body turned away from Validar and walked up to the altar with silent steps, gingerly placing both hands on the stone surface._

_Instantly Robin reeled back, instinctively drawing everything that was himself into a tiny ball as his head filled with disjointed laughter and fractured roars. There was something ancient sealed inside that altar, a being of pure rage and murderous intent that wouldn't stop until it saw every last one of its enemies at its feet with broken wings and sundered scales while the sky rained red -_

_His body let go and the world fell blissfully silent._

_"That's Grima," Robin said. It wasn't a question._

_"We are Grima," the voice chuckled, an oddly bitter undertone creeping into its words. A hand hovered over the altar, not quite touching but close enough that faint echoes of insanity bounced through Robin's head. "We are Grima, and today we fly again."_

_The seal exploded._

* * *

After delivering the sword Grima went to rent a room at an inn, ignoring the maid's unsubtle attempts at drawing him into a mating dance (though the lack of mental commentary was odd, to say the least). His pockets were weighed down by a decent sum of money that Robin had insisted he take, reasoning that with the Shepherds' journey to Regna Ferox being funded by Emmeryn it would be better if Grima used most of Robin's newly acquired money - a monthly stipend received by all Shepherds - to begin a new life in Ylisstol.

All humans practiced a trade of some sort in order to earn a living; Robin had been the Shepherds' chief tactician and Chrom's adviser, a position he was almost certainly headed towards in this derailed timeline as well. This left Grima to find his own trade, if only to keep people from becoming suspicious.

For this reason he'd made a detour and purchased several blank tomes, a pen, and some bottles of ink. Grima's current tome had been created solely from his power; it was an extension of himself and if anyone else attempted to use it they could very well go mad, this timeline's Robin included. Naturally he would have to modify his technique if he wished to create tomes for human use but unlike ordinary weapons this was an area where Grima, a creature of magic who resided within the body of a powerful mage, was very much at home.

_"I'm pretty good at writing tomes,"_ a cheeky voice piped up in the back of his head. _"Feel free to roar if you need any help."_

Ah, there he was. After so many hours of silence Grima had begun to wonder if Robin finally discovered a way to sleep.

* * *

**AN: **Two chapters in two days? Indeed, though I'm afraid my update speed will be tapering off for a little while while I deal with real life.

So, while writing this chapter I discovered two things: first, I am apparently a very fast writer when it comes to angsty scenes. Second, I really like killing Chrom. It's not that I hate him or anything, it's just that his death, the aftermath, and everyone's reaction to it is a treasure trove of potential. Robin's subsequent transformation into Grima is just icing on the cake.


	8. Settling In

**AN:** So, in the official Awakening comic Lucina actually tries to sneak into the Khans' fortress but is caught by Basilio and Lon'qu. She pretends she's just looking for strong opponents to fight, Basilio decides to pit her against Lon'qu, and poor Lon'qu practically runs straight into her boobs which opens him up to an OHKO.

And that's how Lucina became Basilio's champion.

With Laurent around, things here might be a bit different.

* * *

::** Settling In **::

* * *

_"Master, it's as you suspected." The servant approached the dais and bowed low, her features obscured by the unnatural darkness within her cowl. "The princess and her followers have set out in search of the gemstones. What are your orders?"_

_"Intercept them and do as you see fit."_

_"Yes sir!"_

_The girl bowed again and hurried away, leaving him alone once more - or relatively alone, as the case might be._

_"I presume you heard that."_

_"I did." A robed figure, only slightly taller than the girl who'd just left, emerged from an antechamber at the end of the hall. Two dark eyes peered out from behind the bone mask which covered his entire face. "Do you want me to go too?"_

_"No."_

_The boy frowned beneath his mask, his surprise and disapproval almost tangible in the air. "With all due respect, are you sure she can handle it? After what happened last time she could be compromised."_

_"Perhaps."_

_"Master, if she fails-"_

_"There will be no consequence to me." A pale hand stretched out in invitation, palm turned upwards but tilted just enough to reveal a hint of the brand on the other side. "Your powers are needed elsewhere."_

_After a moment's hesitation the boy nodded and approached the dais, slowly reaching out until their fingers brushed. Black energy erupted from the point of contact and the ruins around them trembled, stones shaking free of their foundations and crashing to the ground._

_"Master Gri-"_

"UP AND AT 'EM! Class is in session and Teach's in the house! C'mon Chrom, it's fightin' time!"

Robin grumbled and firmly jammed his thin pillow onto his head as the sound of Shepherds in the morning erupted around him. It was their third day on the road and already he'd discovered that most of his new companions tended to be very energetic in the hours before sunrise.

As a side effect he'd also discovered that he himself was not very energetic in the hours before sunrise and nothing short of a full-blown Risen attack could take him from completely asleep to completely awake in less than ten minutes.

Though even if they weren't actively attacking he supposed he still had the Risen to thank for helping him wake up. After they ran into a small band of the creatures on the outskirts of Ylisstol Robin had found himself falling naturally into a commanding position, coming up with an attack plan on the spot and helping the Shepherds eliminate the enemy with little difficulty. As a result they were quickly beginning to view him as 'one of them' instead of just 'the new guy'.

Cue the ear-shattering wake up calls and early morning training sessions.

Upon testing the sword Rook had given him Robin had discovered he already had a good grasp of the basics and simply needed to strengthen those skills while developing his own style. Although Chrom had been more than willing to help the prince's fighting style was one that had been developed with Falchion in mind, relying heavily on strength and powerful, relentless strikes to bring an enemy to their knees. Robin wasn't as strong as Chrom, nor did he wield an unbreakable sword that could destroy practically anything, so instead Sully and Stahl had volunteered to include him in their morning routines.

"Good morning," Stahl said with a cheerful smile as Robin finally stumbled to join the two cavaliers a few minutes later, bleary-eyed and smothering a yawn. "We were just warming up. Want me to show you some stretches?"

"That would be appreciated, thank you." Robin looked around, noticing the other Shepherds engaged in either their own training or various miscellaneous tasks. "Is it normal to spend so much time in camp?"

"We don't really do the whole 'march at dawn and rest at dusk' kind of thing," Sully chimed in from where she was doing pull-ups on a thick tree branch. "We're ahead of schedule so there's no reason to let ourselves go soft. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask - where's your brother?"

Robin glanced up to see Sully giving him an expectant look. "What?"

"Your brother. Y'know - handsome, sexy ass, looks exactly like you?" Sully dropped to the ground and grinned at Robin's red-faced spluttering. "I'm surprised he didn't come, this being your first real mission and all."

"Rook didn't feel like joining the Shepherds," Robin managed, wondering if there was any protocol for being told your identical twin had a 'sexy ass'. How had Sully even managed to see Rook's butt with that bulky coat in the way? And okaaaay, that was the last time he'd ever think about anything like that again. Bolganone, meet brain.

* * *

If Maribelle was to be honest, she did not enjoy working in an official capacity when at the capital. The work itself was no trouble (though she might occasionally catch herself skimming the more wordy articles) but there was an unsettling feeling she couldn't quite shake whenever she sat herself behind the large mahogany desk which dominated her father's room in the castle.

Perhaps it was simply a product of her childhood, memories of her father and tutors sitting behind similar desks causing her to associate the object with an abstract concept of the unattainable and awe-inspiring. As someone who had yet to match her father's achievements it was only natural that she feel unworthy when at the man's desk.

She scrawled her name on the latest item, approving a motion to open more land for farming in her father's southern territories, then folded and sealed it with wax. With this addition the pile of finished documents rose just slightly higher than the pile still awaiting her perusal, so with no small amount of relief Maribelle slipped out from behind the desk and grabbed her parasol. It was a lovely day and a nice cup of tea in the gardens never failed to lift her spirits.

Easily resisting the urge to hum in a most undignified manner, Maribelle exited the study and walked off with the faintest bounce in her step. A quick detour took her through the public courtyard, where commoners waited to talk with clerks sitting at various tables, and as usual her walk slowed ever so slightly as she watched them.

The other nobles often chuckled at her fascination, wondered what she saw in the unwashed masses, yet she simply couldn't help herself. There was a...spark in the way the lowborn spent their lives, a spark that was absent in the grand halls and courtly decorum of the higher classes. It lightened her heart to watch them interact and she often wondered how it would feel to stand before them as...not an _equal_, but perhaps a comrade of sorts.

With a fond smile she watched as several children chased each other through the crowd, their parents only half-heartedly trying to corral them back in line. One of the children stumbled and almost fell, only to be caught by a young man who'd just turned away from one of the tables. The man quickly set the child back on their feet and murmured something; the child laughed sheepishly and ran off again as the man shook his head in bemusement and walked away.

The man's path took him near Maribelle, who found her good mood rapidly evaporating.

That mop of untidy black hair...that unsightly coat...

"You _dare_?" Maribelle hissed, marching over with her parasol raised like a sword. "Lord Chrom personally vouched for your worthiness and this is how you repay him, by reneging upon your oath when not even a day has passed?"

The commoner looked at her blankly, which only served to raise her ire. How _dare_ he spit on their prince's kindness, slink away from his first mission like a yellow-bellied coward and have the _nerve_ to show his face as though he did nothing wrong? If he believed her to be a helpless, easily manipulated damsel he was in for a rude awakening; Maribelle hefted her parasol, fully intending to lash some sense into the cretin before having him arrested for treason.

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else," the man said slowly, a single backwards step taking him out of her immediate range. "I'll guess and say you've met my brother, Robin?"

"Your brother?" Maribelle hesitated, looking over the commoner with a critical eye. The resemblance to Chrom's newest Shepherd was uncanny but there were a few odd details out of place; his hair appeared to be of a slightly longer length, his skin a shade darker and his voice a bit deeper.

Now that she thought about it, Lissa had indeed expressed disappointment at Robin's twin deciding remain unaffiliated - Maribelle hadn't given it much thought at the time, having been focused on helping her prepare for the journey north.

Oh gods help her, she had just accused an innocent man - _two_ innocent men - of traitorous actions. Maribelle quickly lowered her parasol and offered an apologetic nod. "I sincerely apologize; I have indeed mistaken you for your brother. I am Maribelle of Themis, companion to Princess Lissa. If there is anything I may do to atone for my blunder you need only say the word."

"Don't worry about it," the man said with an awkward smile. "My name's Rook. It's nice to meet you, Maribelle."

"A pleasure." Maribelle studied Rook's appearance, noting the brand new tomes in a book strap slung over his shoulder and the freshly written merchant's permit in his hand. Of course - Robin's status as a Shepherd did not extend to his brother, so it was only natural that Rook must find a means of livelihood elsewhere.

Well, even if she was forgiven she could hardly forget her actions so easily. A noble must always hold themselves to a higher standard, and the memory of her mistake would linger over her if she did nothing to remedy it.

"If nothing else, please allow me to assist in your business. A dear friend of mine is in need of a new tome; would you be willing meet him?" She had noticed Ricken's Wind tome beginning to fall into disrepair; it was only the least she could do as both a noble and a friend.

Rook looked amused, obviously seeing through her poorly veiled intentions - he was quite perceptive for a commoner - but as she expected the prospect of doing business with the nobility won out in the end. Lowborn entrepreneurs were always eager to find a foothold in the upper classes.

"I have some time." He gave her a smaller but more genuine smile. "Lead the way."

* * *

_"Wait wait wait, she likes you already? That's... what... how..."_

_"Are you saying I'm not likable?"_

_"...was that a joke? Gracious Naga, who are you and what have you done with Grima?"_

* * *

"Rook...no, I don't believe I've ever met him," Laurent said with a frown. "If he is as skilled as you say, preventing his death could go a long way towards keeping Robin - and by extension your father - alive."

"Indeed," Lucina nodded. "Though without knowing the circumstances of his original death there is not much we can do. For now we should focus on gathering the gemstones, beginning with Gules."

"Very well," the mage chuckled. "Though perhaps we should create a strategy before attempting to break into the Khans' fortress and pilfer their royal treasure."

"Ah...yes..." Lucina decided not to mention that had indeed been her only plan. "Do you know much about Regna Ferox?"

"In a manner of speaking. I had the unpropitious luck of landing there when I first arrived," Laurent shivered. "But I recall something that might be useful..."


	9. Interferences

**AN:** I know a lot of people treat Awakening like a dating sim / eugenics game à la CK2 Lite, but I'll admit I've never really thought too deeply into character pairings... at least not until now. Holy moly, the amount of time I spent reading support convos and swapping fathers around while writing this chapter...

Not all children will have their dad's hair color, but I figured having a redhead Laurent (minus the hat) in the same room as Miriel would raise more than a few eyebrows pre-reveal.

Sorry about the wait.

* * *

:: **Interferences **::

* * *

Emmeryn had always the diplomat of the family, the one who met anger and resentment with offerings of peace and soft-spoken words. Chrom couldn't imagine her on the battlefield, nor did he want to; he was the one who shouldered the more physical - and sometimes violent - duties required of the royal family. He had always been more comfortable with action than words and the mere thought of heading an important diplomatic mission made him sweat.

In retrospect that was probably why Emm and her council had unanimously decided to send him to Regna Ferox. Who else could beat up most of the gate guards, some to the brink of death, before casually walking in to negotiate an alliance with their ruler?

Somehow, knowing he was the best for the job didn't do much to settle his nerves.

A finger poked him in the elbow; he glanced down to see Lissa giving him a sympathetic look.

"Relax Chrom, it'll be fine. They're the ones who started it!"

"Unfortunately that doesn't always hold water in politics," Chrom sighed. "I just hope the khan understands. I don't want to fight him too."

"Is that so?" They turned to see a tall, armored woman walk in, her face set in a friendly smirk as she looked Chrom up and down. "Can't say I'd be averse to getting some exercise with that holy sword of yours."

Chrom blinked.

He blinked again.

Maybe he should skip the small talk and cut to the chase.

"The khan, I presume?"

"One of them, yes—the East Khan," the woman said with a nod, all mischievousness disappearing to be replaced by brisk professionalism. "My name is Flavia. I apologize for the trouble at the border, Prince Chrom. You and your men are welcome in Regna Ferox."

"Thank you, but I'm confident we can put that misunderstanding behind us." Chrom tried to imitate the bland, inoffensive smile nobles tended to use when navigating political waters. If Lissa's hastily muffled snort and Frederick's strange expression was any indication his imitation wasn't quite perfect, so he quickly moved on to something that had been bothering him since the skirmish at the gate. "Is it true bandits posing as Ylisseans have been ransacking your border villages?"

Flavia nodded, muttering something under her breath before replying. "We found documents proving as much on the corpse of one of their captains. Plegia must see some benefit in raising tensions between your kingdom and ours."

"Damn them!" Chrom clenched his fist, then winced as Frederick coughed pointedly and he remembered where he was. "Forgive me, Your Grace. That was indelicately put."

"Ha!" Flavia snorted, a sound that made her sound oddly like Lissa. "Damn them and damn diplomacy! Here in Ferox, we appreciate plain speech."

...Yes, Chrom could see exactly why Emm had sent him here. At least things were turning out much better than he'd hoped.

"In that case," he said cautiously, fervently hoping he wasn't misinterpreting anything, "You should have a word with your damn border guards."

At that Flavia threw back her head and burst out laughing; Chrom sighed in relief.

"Now that's Feroxi diplomacy!" Flavia gave him a large grin, though that quickly dimmed into a more serious expression. "I know why you've come, but I'm afraid I lack the authority to pledge our troops to your aid."

That...wasn't quite what Chrom had expected to hear.

"Forgive me, but I don't understand. Aren't you the khan?"

"I am ONE of the khans." Flavia gestured at the two plain thrones on the dais. Chrom hadn't given them much thought, believing they were for the khan and their spouse. "In Ferox, the khans of east and west hold a tournament every few years. The victor acquires total sovereignty over both kingdoms, giving them the final say when it comes to forging alliances. The West Khan won the last tournament, you see, and so..."

Really, this was something he could've figured out if he'd simply done some research before trekking out here. He'd thought he was prepared, practicing his etiquette and reciting his arguments until he could say them in his sleep, but of course he'd neglected to do the most basic preparations. The councilors would not be happy...

"Are we to receive no aid at all?"

"Not if you give up so easily," Flavia smiled. "The next tournament is nigh and I've found some very capable champions. If they win and I become ruling khan, I will grant your alliance."

Chrom frowned. Gambling Ylisse's future on the success of strangers didn't sit well with him, but he could see no other option. In any case, even if Flavia lost he could try to get an audience with the West Khan.

"Very well."

* * *

The Khans' fortress was a large, imposing structure that was every bit as straightforward and efficient as its inhabitants. Built with stones hauled down from the mountains, its interior was a maze of wide, open corridors and comfortably furnished rooms containing little to no decoration. The exception was the Khans' joint throne room, where large, colorful tapestries illustrating the greatest events of Feroxi history adorned the walls and two smaller, noticeably unfinished tapestries chronicling the achievements of the current rulers hung behind each throne.

After a few days of subtly sneaking around in an attempt to map out the building it was clear that the fortress lacked any type of treasury, leading Lucina to believe the gemstone was kept in Khan Basilio's private chambers or perhaps even on Basilio himself. It was unfortunate, but at least they hadn't wasted their trip here; posing as a pair of traveling adventurers seeking to test their strength against strong opponents, she and Laurent had managed to catch Khan Flavia's attention with some battles at the local arena and had been appointed as two of her champions in the upcoming tournament.

Interfering with history in such a manner was...distasteful to say the least, but there was little to no downside to earning a strong reputation in what had been Ylisse's closest ally. In any case, it wasn't as if they fighting for Khan Basilio and thus pitted against the Shepherds, who would be in the stands this time around now that Flavia had no more need of champions. Even revealing Falchion for everyone to see was a negligible thing at most, with some creative lies it could be explained as a duplicate or lookalike...

Perhaps if Lucina kept telling herself it would be alright she might eventually believe it.

She leaned back and clasped her hands together in a futile effort to keep them from shaking. Laurent, sitting across from her and tapping his tome in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, gave her a small smile.

They were currently waiting in a small, stark room with the rest of Flavia's champions, a motley group that consisted largely of mercenaries and adventurers. Soon they would be called into the arena to fight for Flavia's right to the throne...and the Shepherds would almost certainly be watching.

Lucina took a deep breath and grasped Falchion's hilt, rubbing her thumb over the familiar curve for luck.

"I believe the proper phrase here is 'good luck'," Laurent whispered, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. Wishing each other luck had largely fallen out of favor in their own time, having been replaced by lines such as 'do well' and 'stay safe'. "There is no need to panic. Remember, Khan Basilio is just as likely to grant an alliance as Khan Flavia."

"I know," Lucina murmured. "But Khan Flavia won when the Shepherds fought for her. For that reason alone we can't lose."

"...Indeed, though I was merely attempting to allay your anxiety."

"O-oh. My apologies."

"There is no need for apologies," Laurent chuckled wearily. "I do understand where you are coming from."

The door opened; a soldier poked his head in.

"Alright, it's showtime. Get out there!"

* * *

The worn cobblestone path was familiar beneath his feet, the sounds of training even more so. Although his vessel was theoretically only the tactician of the Shepherds, an elite force that was completely separate from the main army, during wartime Robin had often watched the training of ordinary Ylissean troops in order to best adapt his strategies.

Even during peacetime the training grounds had been one of Robin's favorite places in the castle, second only to his own personal rooms. The tactician had often came here to escape the endless paperwork and social posturing which awaited him indoors; after all, who would dare tell him off if he wished to observe the skills of the troops?

The shadows obscured him from human sight as he leaned against a tree and watched them train, vaguely amused at the sight of spellcasters wielding the tomes he had made. Maribelle had been insistent on apologizing for 'almost' arresting him a few days ago and, upon seeing the quality of Ricken's new Elwind tome, had dropped hints about 'Levi's' skill to the quartermaster of the mage battalion. Fortunately he had managed to keep his own power from seeping into his work; none of the humans appeared to be in danger of losing their minds.

He had to admit the sight of magical elements soaring above the ranks of armed soldiers was rather nostalgic for not just his vessel but also himself, bringing to mind the orderly armies which had confronted him after his awakening. Of course they hadn't remained orderly for long once confronted with his Risen, but it was a pleasant memory nonetheless.

"Hyaaa!"

"Nrrraaaaagh!"

"Hnnnnnnnnnnngh!"

Though for some reason human exertions were often accompanied by sounds reminiscent of extremely painful bowel movements, which was slightly less pleasant.

He waited until the humans were engaged in a particularly strenuous - and loud - exercise before letting his shadows fall just enough to reveal his form to anyone within a short distance. "How long do you plan to stay there?"

There was a hastily muffled yelp and the branches above his head rustled loudly. After a beat of silence the leaves parted slightly to reveal a pair of human eyes staring down at him in disbelief.

"W-w-what...who...what..."

Grima tilted his head back and met the man's stare with an even gaze as he waited for the human to stop spluttering. All things considered it took a surprisingly short amount of time; the Ylisseans hadn't even finished their latest drill before there was the soft sound of an arrow being drawn from its quiver.

"Who are you?" the man hissed, his words punctuated by the creak of an iron bow.

In answer Grima pulled off his glove and held up his hand, watching in faint amusement as the man froze and scrambled to lower his weapon.

"I apologize, sir. I didn't realize...I never thought..." The man quickly fell silent as Grima waved his still-gloved hand in a dismissive manner.

"Who do you work for?"

"I...I am from Plegia, milord, and-"

"Who."

"...Lord Validar, sir."

Grima blinked slowly as he felt Robin's attention snap back from whatever it was he'd been preoccupied with. The tactician's mind, normally guarded and kept as aloof as possible, shimmered with emotions; fear and anger and a heavy dose of guilt swirled around the edge of Grima's consciousness.

One would think that after all these years Robin would know how to keep a tighter leash over his emotions, especially considering what might happen - what almost happened, back when Grima had first awakened - should he lose control.

But despite the heightened negativity Robin seemed sane enough, so Grima warily kept a mental eye on him as he turned back to the human. Shadows wrapped around the Grimleal and unceremoniously deposited the man in an empty alley nearby. Grima pulled on his glove and followed with a simple teleportation spell, waiting patiently as the disoriented man picked himself off the ground.

"Take me to Validar."


	10. Small Revelations

**AN:** Sorry about the wait, I've been busy with finals and working on some SWTOR fics.

The second section of this chapter will be familiar to those of you who've read the original fic, but there's a lot of new writing after it (I know I personally sometimes skim through rewrites if the writing's familiar). I've been experimenting with short flashback snippets. Any feedback is welcome!

* * *

:: **Small Revelations** ::

* * *

Chrom leaned forward as far as propriety allowed, frowning down at the masked swordsman standing on the far side of the arena floor. Now that they were out of the dark forest he could see that Marth was unexpectedly skinny, looking almost malnourished despite his prowess in battle. The sword he carried looked inordinately large, almost like...

...wait.

Chrom rubbed his eyes and turned to the nearest Shepherd.

"Robin, look at Marth's sword. Is it just me, or...?"

"Marth's sword?" Robin squinted at the swordsman, tilting his head this way and that to get a better angle as he tried to see the sword sheathed on Marth's other side. "Um. I'm not sure what you're talking about... I guess it looks a bit bulky for him. I'm surprised he can wield it as well as he can, though it does explain all the decimated trees we saw after that battle."

"The trees? Are you talking about the ones destroyed by the flames?"

"No, unless the flames suddenly turned into swords - though I wouldn't be surprised if that happened, all things considered." Robin looked thoughtful. "There were trees damaged by what looked like a very large sword, all in the general area of where Marth was fighting. I assumed he was unused to fighting in such a dense forest."

Chrom had always hated fighting in small spaces; as a child still learning to wield Falchion he'd decimated entire sections of the forests around Ylisstol before finally mastering some more streamlined techniques.

He shook his head. It wasn't like this was a problem unique to Falchion and there were plenty of large, bulky swords out there. Most likely Marth's sword simply had a similar shape and that combined with the distance and the arena's dim lighting was playing tricks on Chrom's eyes.

Marth slowly began to circle around the arena, sword still sheathed as he watched his opponent. Khan Basilio's champion was a tall swordsman with dark, spiky hair and an unusually slim sword; he matched Marth's movements step for step, face set in an impassive expression.

They'd moved across about a quarter of the stage before Marth reached for his sword. His hand had barely landed on the hilt when his opponent jumped into action, quickly closing the distance between them while drawing his own sword in a fluid movement. Within seconds he was in front of Marth, sword arching up towards the masked man's neck.

Marth was fast; he yanked out his sword just in time to block the swing and leaned back, bracing himself on one leg to absorb the blow. Basilio's champion froze, staring at something on Marth's chest, and Marth took advantage of the distraction to push him away with a flurry of very familiar-looking blows.

Chrom kicked propriety out the window and leaned forward as far as possible, hands tightening on the railing in front of him until his knuckles turned white. Dimly he could hear his Shepherds muttering in confusion, and even the armored Feroxi knight who'd fought him at the gate turned to give him a surprised look.

Like many noble families with ancestral weapons passed from generation to generation, Ylisse's royal family had a very unique fighting style made all the more recognizable by Falchion's special properties. The previous exalt had died before Chrom was old enough to be taught anything more than the very basics so Chrom had cobbled together the rest of his techniques using a mixture of mainstream fighting styles, his trainers' memories, and his own trials and errors. He was quite literally the only person who'd ever fought the way he did.

Or so he thought.

"I see it now," Robin muttered. "Isn't Falchion...?"

"Supposed to be the only one of its kind?" Chrom frowned down at the all-too-familiar blade in Marth's hands. "Yeah. It is."

* * *

Validar had just settled down with a treatise on shadows in the human mind when there was a swift knock at his door. Really, he'd dismissed the hired hands with explicit instructions to not contact him until he sent them a sign. One would think that having their pick of Ylisse's treasures - not to mention the sizable amount of gold already paid to them by Plegia - would inspire these common criminals to perfect obedience. Humans were truly the most unreliable of creatures.

"Enter," he said as he carefully closed his book, not wanting to get blood on the pages in the event that a...firmer form of discipline was required. The door creaked open and Validar raised an eyebrow as Rhett, the one Grimleal among those he'd brought, slipped in and dropped into a shaky bow. Before he could open his mouth, however, another young man stepped inside and closed the door with a soft click.

The stranger lowered his hood and Validar stared, for once at a loss for words.

"You are...Robin, am I correct?" He fought to keep his voice impassive, but it was difficult to control his rising excitement. Though he had managed to find his son not long after that woman fled, he had been too occupied with the Grimleal and the war to do much more than keep an eye on the orphanage. It was something he'd come to regret as Robin grew up and disappeared from his sight; he'd had no clue of the boy's whereabouts for the past few years.

Truly the fates smiled upon him!

"...I am Robin," the boy said in a quiet voice that made Validar's hair stand on end. "But he is not me."

A pulse of magic emanated from Validar's pocket; with a gasp he quickly retrieved his prized possession from the depths of his robes, taking out the signature tome of the Grimleal's leader. Rhett dropped to his knees and clasped his hands; Validar resisted the urge to do the same as he reverently cradled the slim book while the boy - the boy who was so much more - simply stood there with an impassive expression.

The tome was the treasure of the Grimleal, a priceless artifact passed down from generation to generation. It could only be wielded by those who held the favor of Grima, yet the Fell Dragon's slumber meant none had been able to read it in over a thousand years. It was essentially the crown of the Grimleal's leader, an object important for symbolic reasons yet lacking a practical use...until now.

Validar watched rapturously as the eyes of Grima emblazoned on the cover glowed with an unworldly light and instinctively knew he could now read the once indecipherable words within its pages at leisure. Grima's Truth, the tome written and blessed by the Fell Dragon himself, was alive once more.

The light faded and suddenly the world appeared dull, the furniture faded and the sunlight weak. Validar kept a tight grip on the tome as he stood and bowed as low as he could.

"I will uphold your promise," he vowed, reverently tracing the tome's spine and feeling the ancient magic thrum beneath his fingers. "This I solemnly swear as leader of the Grimleal and your humble servant."

"There is no need to bow."

Validar hastily straightened up. His god gave him an unreadable look before drawing out two chairs and pushing one of them in Rhett's direction.

"There is much I have to tell you," Grima said as he sat down, motioning for them to do the same. Rhett all but threw himself into the offered chair while Validar hastened back to his seat and leaned forward, trying not to appear too eager but not caring if he failed.

"I will start at the beginning. How much do you know about the tome you hold?"

* * *

_"Do you know anything about Plegia's new king, Validar?" Chrom asked as they traveled through the desert. "I've heard he's long been a powerful figure, perhaps even served as Gangrel's personal adviser."_

_"Validar?" The name was vaguely familiar; Robin remembered hearing it a few times during his travels before meeting Chrom. "I believe he's the head of the Grimleal, though I don't recall him being particularly active in politics. Most Plegians worship Grima so it's possible they wanted a familiar, trustworthy face after all the chaos and he was the natural choice."_

_"A religious leader, hm?" Chrom looked thoughtful. "Perhaps he'll be more open-minded than his predecessor."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"And you must be Sir Robin!" Validar smiled, a flash of startlingly white teeth against his sorcery-darkened skin. "It's a pleasure to meet you."_

_"Do you know me, Sire?"_

_"There are few Plegians who don't know of Ylisse's masterful tactician," the king chuckled. "Rest assured neither I nor my generals hold a grudge against you for the war. We are merely disappointed you had to see your homeland in such a light. Perhaps with time we may redeem ourselves..."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"Plegia is proud to claim a long, proud history of the dark arts. Grima's Truth is one of our sacred treasures, our 'Falchion' if you will. In a show of our goodwill I offer it to you, Sir Robin."_

_"W-what... I... I can't accept this, Sire."_

_"What good are the greatest tools if they are not used? It's said that this tome was written by Grima himself. To have the words of the Fell Dragon fighting side-by-side with the fang of the Divine... is it not a marvelous thought?"_

_"Sire, I-"_

_"Even if you refuse to use it in battle, I believe you'd enjoy the contents of its pages. It's said that Grima was highly skilled in the art of warfare; perhaps you can learn something."_

_"I..."_

_"I insist. You may return it after the war has ended."_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"Robin, dinner's ready. Robin?"_

_"Hm? Oh, I'll be right there!"_

_"I've been calling you for a while. Is everything alright?"_

_"I've just been reading the tome Validar gave me. He said it was written by Grima and honestly, I believe it. Some of the stuff in here is fascinating."_

_"That's really interesting! What language is it written in?"_

_"What do you mean? The words are a bit archaic but they're not in another language."_

_"Huh? Robin, I can't read this at all."_

* * *

Robin waited until Grima had left the hotel far behind them before speaking up.

"What you said in there... was it true?"

"I said many things in there," Grima's dispassionate voice drifted up inside their shared head. "You'll have to elaborate."

"What you said about your tome, about the seal and the curse of the Dragon Tribes... is it all true?"

There was a long moment of silence. Then...

"How long have you known me, Robin? Ten years? Perhaps more?"

"That sounds about right."

"Have you ever known me to lie?"

"...asks the time-traveling mutant dragon who's currently pretending to be the human twin of the guy whose body he stole."

There was a soft huff of laughter. "Fair enough. But know that to my servants, and to you, I will speak nothing but the truth."

"Oh, am I one of your servants, then?"

"You are Grima."

"So what you're saying is that you've taken over your own body and locked yourself away in your own head."

"Indeed."

"I was being sarcastic."

"As was I."


	11. Return to Ylisstol

**AN:** Obligatory apology for the wait. I've been pretty busy with other fics and real life, not to mention a giant writer's block, but I do plan to finish this story no matter how long it takes.

This chapter's a bit shorter than usual since I felt like the original ending worked better as the beginning of the next chapter. As always, feedback is always welcome :)

* * *

:: **Return to Ylisstol** ::

* * *

The Shepherds returned to Ylisstol at dawn, heralded by the excited chatter of awestruck peasants and escorted by eager children babbling incessantly while their sheepishly smiling parents half-heartedly attempted to herd them away.

"We should get closer," Robin said as he watched the chaos from the relative seclusion of a shadowed alley. Silently he counted to ten; when there was no response he reached out a mental finger and poked the not-quite-sleeping dragon. "Please? I really want to see the face little me is making right now."

Grima made a noncommittal sound and straightened from where he'd been leaning their shared body against the wall. He flipped up their hood and stepped forward to stand at the very edge of the crowd; now in addition to the chaos they could see a few colorful heads of hair emerging through the city gates, a motley assortment of colors following a single dark blue head.

"You have a strange definition of face."

"I'll have you relive the memory and show you your expression in a mirror," Grima said, his words slightly more pointed than usual thanks to a subtle undercurrent that practically screamed 'Shut Up Robin'.

"Does that mean you'll give me control of my face?" Robin kept his voice carefully light even as he latched onto Grima's strange reaction. "Or are you going to make the face for me? Pretend to be me? Pretend to be 'Rook' pretending to be me?"

That wasn't quite as nice as the thought of finally regaining some control over his body, no matter how small, but watching Grima attempt to recreate the awkward stage fright Robin had felt during his first official Shepherd homecoming parade in the original timeline was something he dearly wanted to see.

Grima predictably didn't answer.

* * *

_His first memory upon awakening was one of voices._

_His second memory was one of madness._

_"-fools, all fools-"_

_"Weak... humans... lower than humans..."_

_"-traitorous scum..."_

_"Blight on our species-"_

_"Kill them all..."_

_"...thousand curses...repaid a hundred times over..."_

_The words pounded through his head like the heartbeat of a great creature, an ancient power that knew nothing but pain and rage and an unquenchable thirst for revenge. Distantly he remembered being a part of that ancient power, simply another voice in the thousands that formed one whole, or perhaps he'd never been and was simply swept along in hibernation until his own power matured. _

_Perhaps it was one last protective measure from his elders, a desperate bid to preserve their tribe. Perhaps it was merely a cruel twist of fate. Whatever it was, somehow he was still himself - relatively sane and surrounded by the maddened, degenerated creatures that had once been his proud kin._

_He shuddered and curled in on himself. His body was different, soft and fleshy and wingless like a human, but it was the least of his concerns as voices screamed in his head and incorporeal scales pressed against him in a suffocating mass-_

Grima shook his head and turned, walking briskly away from the crowd. Almost instantly he regretted his actions as Robin snapped to attention at the sudden movement.

_"Grima?"_

On most occasions he was willing to endure the tactician's prodding. This was not one of those times. A small snap of power had Robin's increasingly worried presence silenced and banished to a tiny corner and Grima, finally alone, rubbed his head.

There was a reason he'd avoided humans after his awakening. He'd do well to remember it while immersing himself among them.

* * *

Robin sighed in relief as he finally managed to get away from all the excitement and headed back to the barracks with his bag. He enjoyed traveling with the Shepherds and wasn't regretting his decision to join them, but the impromptu celebration that had greeted their return to Ylisstol was wearying after the first startled minutes.

It was apparently a common occurrence, especially when Chrom and Lissa were present, so he supposed he should probably get used to it.

He fumbled in his pocket for the key, then paused upon seeing the door unlocked and slightly ajar. Robin looked at it for a moment and, placing a hand on his tome, reached out to carefully push open the door.

"Welcome back," Rook said with a smile, looking up from where he was sitting at the small table. There was a pen in his hand and an open tome in front of him, the pages only partially filled with writing.

"Rook?" Robin grinned, tossing his bag onto his bunk and going to join his brother. "It's good to see you. How'd you get in?"

"Maribelle made sure everyone knows I'm your brother," Rook looked amused. "She was quite insistent."

Robin blinked, thinking back to his meeting with Lissa's friend. "I feel like there's a story there."

"There is," Rook chuckled. "But I'm sure she can tell it better than I. But enough about me, how was your trip?"

"It was...interesting, to say the least," he sat down and made himself comfortable. "Remember that masked swordsman we met in the forest? Marth? He was fighting for one of the khans in their arena."

A strange expression flickered briefly over Rook's face. "Marth was fighting in the arena?"

Robin nodded, quickly telling Rook about their meeting with Khan Flavia, the ensuing tournament, and Marth's sword that was a perfect copy of Falchion. Apparently the weapon hadn't been the only familiar thing about him though - the Shepherds had spent most of the return journey arguing about Marth's fighting technique and the odds of someone completely coincidentally developing a style that was almost a mirror of Chrom's.

"Interesting," Rook hummed thoughtfully once Robin had finished. "That's twice he's shown up at exceptional times. What do you think about him?"

"He's...strong. Takes the mysterious swordsman thing to a whole different level," Robin shrugged. "Without knowing more, or at least a closer look, I really can't say."

"Fair enough. I'm doubt we've seen the last of him," Rook looked down and pushed his half-written tome across the table, abruptly changing the subject. "Take a look. Do you remember how to write tomes?"

"I knew how to write tomes?"

"I'll take that as a no," Rook pulled out a second pen from somewhere and tossed it to Robin. "Here, I'll show you."


	12. Eve of War

**AN:** I wasn't planning to use Maribelle's POV again but she's a really interesting character and I have a lot of plans for her 'friendship' with Rook. I've also been playing around with Ylissean politics and power plays, something that's not really seen in the game, so Maribelle gives me a good outlet to explore them through.

* * *

:: **Eve of War** ::

* * *

_To Her Excellency the Lady Maribelle of Themis_

The words were familiar and mundane, the simple greeting that opened all of her official correspondences. Today the inked letters, their lines shakily written compared to their usual precision, glared up at her in what she fancied to be an almost mocking manner.

Her Excellency the Lady Maribelle of Themis. What right had she to that title when she had no clue of her people's struggles - no clue until everything was long finished and done?

"We can't let them get away with this. I'm sorry Emm, but this isn't something that can be negotiated away."

Maribelle carefully composed her face and looked up. Every ounce of guilt and self-disgust she felt, hastily stuffed behind a stern frown, was displayed in full view on Prince Chrom. For a brief moment she considered some form of (gently polite) admonishment - a royal should never openly show such emotions, and in any event not even the most cynical critics would pin blame on the prince.

She swallowed her words and remained silent, watching Chrom pace with increasingly agitated movements. Across from her Emmeryn bowed her head and reread the deceptively plain letter laying on the table, a terrible sadness building up in her expression, and Maribelle's fists instinctively clenched.

"I take full responsibility," she said, clearing her throat. To her relief her voice came out firm and strong; Chrom paused in his pacing and Emmeryn looked up.

Maribelle swallowed and determinedly met the Exalt's eyes, struggling not to dwell on how _wrong_ it was to see her ruler so anguished.

"A soldier of Themis attacked the king of Plegia," she continued, clasping her hands together. "Regardless of our personal opinions - and the fact that Gangrel was posing as a mere mercenary among a group of bandits - this is quite obviously unacceptable. As my father's representative in court I will take full responsibility."

"What?" Chrom scowled. "Maribelle, this is hardly your fault. Plegia has been harassing border villages for months now. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"That is not relevant," Maribelle fought to keep her voice steady. As much as she respected the man, Chrom could be remarkably clueless sometimes. "Themis is my family's jurisdiction and we are directly responsible for the actions of our subjects, especially when the consequences resulting from said actions are so severe."

Chrom's scowl deepened and he opened his mouth, presumably to lay out a list of reasons of why this _wasn't_ her responsibility, only to snap it shut when Emmeryn raised a hand.

"We will certainly appreciate your aid in the coming conflict," the Exalt said softly. "But please, do not strain yourself. Chrom is correct; there is nothing you could have done. Do not let guilt drive your actions."

Few people could look Emmeryn in the face and argue; Maribelle was not one of them. She bit her lip and nodded, silently acquiescing - at least for now.

* * *

War.

Chrom always knew it would happen eventually. His entire childhood had rotated around the fallout from everything his father had done, and though things had settled down through Emmeryn's tireless efforts the Plegians possessed long memories. With the increasingly daring 'bandit' attacks on the border villages it had only been a matter of time before something snapped and they crossed the line into full conflict.

He sighed, looking up at the sky. It was a cloudy night; the normally bright stars were nowhere to be seen. The castle's bright lights cast long shapes across the garden path, splitting the shadows apart. The warmth was comforting on his skin but standing in the patch of light made him feel horribly exposed, even here in the safety of the castle grounds. Chrom stepped off the path and into the grass.

"Chrom? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you Robin. Just dueling with some unpleasant thoughts," Chrom looked up at the familiar voice. Then he blinked in confusion upon seeing double before his brain caught up with his eyes. "Rook. It's good to see you."

Rook gave Chrom a small smile. Beside him Robin was studying Chrom with a worried frown.

"We heard about what happened," Robin said. "So it's true, then? Plegia has declared war?"

"Plegia never truly forgave Ylisse for the atrocities my father committed," belatedly Chrom remembered he was talking to two friends who just happened to be Plegians, but neither of them seemed to take any offence. "Even Ylisseans, after our father passed, looked at Emmeryn and saw only a monster's spawn who would surely follow in his footsteps. It took years for her to soften their hearts and bring our kingdoms to peace - and now her efforts have come to nothing."

"I disagree."

They turned to see a new, familiar figure step out from the trees; the swordsman Marth bowed his head politely. "Good evening to you all."

"Marth," Chrom glanced down, seeing the Falchion sheathed at Marth's waist. There were so many questions, so much he wanted to know about this strange man... but at the moment only one came to mind. "How did you get in here?"

Marth opened his mouth to reply, only to flinch and dodge aside as a bolt of dark magic soared past his head.

"Rook!" Robin stared at his brother, who in turn was frowning at where the tendril of dark energy was writhing around in the bushes. "What are you doing?"

"This," Rook made a pulling motion with his arm and his magic snapped back, depositing something heavy on the ground before dissipating into thin air.

It was the corpses of two men dressed in dark clothes, bearing a dagger in each hand and expressions of intense concentration on their faces.

Chrom reached for Falchion's hilt, looking around at their surroundings. "Are those... assassins?"

"Yes," it was difficult to tell with the mask, but Marth appeared unnerved as he looked up from the corpses. He studied Rook for a long moment before turning back to Chrom. "This is why I came here, to warn you - tonight the exalt's life is in danger."

"They're trying to kill Emmeryn?" Silently Chrom cursed himself for not realizing the possibility sooner - this _was_ Plegia they were dealing with, after all. "Robin, go get the Shepherds. Rook, Marth..."

"I'll do whatever I can to help," Marth said immediately. Rook simply nodded.

"Right, come with me. We need to warn Emmeryn and her guards," Chrom spun on his heel and hurried into the castle, only vaguely noticing as Marth and Rook fell in step behind him. Emmeryn's rooms were in the most fortified area of the castle; hopefully her guards could hold off any assassins before the Shepherds arrived.

* * *

"Ow," a small, cloaked figure grumbled under her breath as she hopped across the dark garden, clutching at her foot. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Careful," another cloaked figure, slightly taller than the first one, watched his companion with an amused smile. "We're trying to stay low, remember?"

"Let's see you stay quiet after kicking a brick at running speed," the girl grumbled, earning herself a hastily muffled chuckle.

"I'll pass. Come on Morgan, let's go - can't let the princess and her friends steal all the glory."


	13. Perhaps

**AN:** Not much to say about this chapter except sorry about the delay. To everyone who celebrates it next week, Happy (early) Thanksgiving!

* * *

**:: Perhaps ::**

* * *

_"Where are you going? Are you going to find Mother?"_

_"Laurent..."_

_Laurent frowned at his father's pained expression. He knew what was coming next, the gentle reminder that no one could have survived that ambush, but everyone knew bodies didn't simply disappear into thin air. There were no reports of any Risen resembling his mother and her corpse was not among those found at the scene, so it was only logical that she was still somewhere out there. _

_That she hadn't returned home after all this time merely meant she was lost, perhaps preoccupied with an important experiment, but that was fine. His father was a skilled tracker with a good sense of direction. _

_If anyone could bring Miriel home, it was Gaius._

By all accounts his mother, though a brilliant woman, could be remarkably absent-minded when it came to cardinal directions. Fortunately Laurent had taken after his father in that regard; the castle grounds were both familiar and unfamiliar and he found himself turned around more often than he'd prefer.

In his time the grounds were filled with barricades of stacked stones and flammable debris. In theory a horde of Risen, should they manage to break through the outer walls, would be slowed by the stones and incinerated by the flames. Fortunately they'd never needed to put that theory to the test, but the crowded grounds made them sleep slightly easier at night.

In this time the grounds were wide and spacious, the roads neatly paved and the grass trimmed with obvious care. It was beautiful, pulchritudinous, a clear indication of the peaceful time period. It made Laurent feel horribly exposed.

He pushed down the urge to hide and carefully made his way towards the back of the castle. There were tiny imperfections in the stone here, unnoticeable if one wasn't trained to notice them. Laurent ran his hand along one particular brick, pressing his fingers into certain spots, and a small section of the wall creaked open.

Inside the newly revealed passage an orange-haired thief jumped and looked up with wide eyes.

"I swear this isn't what it looks like," Gaius held up his hands. Then he frowned. "Well, yes it is. But it won't be for long."

How was it that Laurent had forgotten the sound of his father's voice but didn't realize until now? He wet his suddenly dry lips and took a deep breath, hoping his words wouldn't come out too shaky. "Is that so?"

"Hey, I'm a reasonable guy. You're with the Exalt, right?" Not quite, but it was an apt description of his allegiance. Laurent nodded and Gaius continued, "She's a nice lady, the last thing I want to do is hurt her. Tell you what, give me a sweet deal and I'll help you guys out."

* * *

Lucina's curiosity at his presence, initially cautious but accepting, had quickly taken a suspicious turn. The princess glanced at him warily as they watched Robin and Chrom re-position the Shepherds during a lull in the fighting, careful to always place herself between him and Chrom in what she presumably thought was a nonchalant manner.

Grima turned, just in time to catch Lucina staring in his direction, and raised a questioning eyebrow. Lucina shook her head and quickly looked away.

After the battle she would find Laurent and tell him about the events in the garden. Together they would analyze Grima's actions, study everything they knew about 'Rook' and attempt to explain how the events of this timeline had differed so greatly from the original without Lucina's direct interference.

Perhaps they'd rationalize his actions by saying Lucina's arrival had drawn his attention towards the assassins' hiding place behind her.

Perhaps they'd suspect he was more than he appeared to be.

Perhaps they'd investigate, attempt to probe deeper into his background for more information.

Perhaps they'd look at Robin and wonder if he was the same.

"Marth," Robin called, pulling Lucina's attention away from the side of Grima's head. "Can you help Miriel and Lon'qu in the sitting room?"

"I..."

Lucina hesitated. Perhaps she wished to keep an eye on Grima. Perhaps she wished to stay close to her father. Perhaps she wished to personally guard Emmeryn's personal chambers instead of fighting in the suite's outermost room. But then she glanced at Chrom and winced almost imperceptibly. "Understood."

Chrom watched her go with a small frown.

Lucina had rescued Lissa in the forest. She was also a masked swordsman who wielded a second Falchion and appeared in the castle garden moments before a major assassination attempt that had only been thwarted due to Grima's - or rather Rook's - quick reflexes.

For the first, Grima mused, perhaps Chrom wished to trust her. But for the second he couldn't afford to, especially since Lucina had never revealed how she'd managed to sneak into the heavily guarded castle grounds.

Grima reached out and tapped Chrom on the shoulder, giving the prince a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," he said softly, falling into the voice Robin often used to reassure a young Inigo right before meeting someone new. "We'll protect Emmeryn - with our lives if necessary."

Chrom nodded, though he still looked worried for another reason entirely. "This means a lot but you really don't have to-"

"Plegia is my birthplace," Grima interrupted. "But you are my friend, and I know Robin feels the same."

Chrom was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled and briefly squeezed Grima's shoulder. "Thank you, Rook."

Humans were guilty of many things. Unpredictability would never be one of them.

* * *

_"Morgan? Morgan!" The boy smiled happily when he noticed her looking around. "Thank goodness, I thought you'd never wake up."_

_"Morgan?" She frowned. "I... is that... Who are you?"_

_The boy, who'd been reaching for her, abruptly froze. "What? Morgan, it's me. Marc. Don't you remember?"_

_"Marc? I don't... I'm sorry... I don't remember," She shook her head, trying to remember anything beyond her father, who was great and helpful but not here to help. "Morgan. Is that my name?"_

_"Yes... you're Morgan," the boy said slowly. "I was afraid something might've happened, but..." He hesitated, looking around awkwardly. __"Your name is Morgan and I'm your cousin, Marc. Your father, Robin, and my father, Gr-uh, Rook, were brothers. Twins to be exact..."_

_"Were?"_

_"In our time they've been dead for years," Marc said bluntly, though he quickly softened his tone at Morgan's devastated expression. "But right now we're in the past. They're still alive. We're here to save them, and the world too."_

_"I... okay," Morgan took a deep, shuddering breath and shifted into a more comfortable position, trying not to imagine... No. This was a briefing, the most important briefing she'd ever have. She could handle that. She had to. "Start from the beginning."_

Like all good castles the Exalt's home hosted a number of secret passages, which was fortunate for what they wanted to do. A bit more unfortunate was the fact that few people knew of their existence and fewer still used them on a regular basis, at least in this time, which meant Morgan and Marc found themselves kicking up clouds of dust and gathering cobwebs in their hair.

Morgan muffled a sneeze with her sleeve, only to wrinkle her nose as something _moved_ and tickled her skin. She held up her arm and flicked her fingers to pull down the floating ball of fire that was serving as her light source.

There was a large, hairy spider perched happily on her sleeve, its dark coloring camouflaging it against the equally dark cloth. Morgan quickly flicked it off.

"We're almost there," Marc said, poking his head around the corner. "If I remember correctly there should be a trapdoor at the second left turn. That's your exit - it opens into the corridor right outside Emmeryn's chambers."

"Is that the place with all the tapestries?" Morgan vaguely remembered spending an entire afternoon with her father describing to her the events that led to each tapestry's creation.

"That's the one. Do you remember it?" Marc looked cautiously hopeful; their trip to the past had been tumultuous and caused Morgan to lose most of her memories, or at least that was what Marc said. Morgan didn't doubt him - everything, from the glaring holes in her head to the way Marc knew about things before they actually happened, indicated it was the truth.

"Barely," Morgan sighed. "But I'm sure I'll manage. You go right, I go left?"

"Right," Marc nodded. "Sorry, I know you want to see your father, but..."

"Don't worry about it," Morgan smiled and lightly punched Marc's arm as she headed for the exit. "We planned this together, remember? Come on, let's go."

She desperately wanted to see her father but there was too much at stake; they couldn't afford any distractions. Besides, Marc was making the same sacrifice and she didn't want him worrying about her even more on top of everything else.

They'd reunite with their parents when the time was right.


	14. A Gift

**AN:** Sorry about the wait! I got caught up in writing SWTOR fanfics on my AO3 account. But I'm looking forward to picking up Fates in a few days so I've been getting back into the Fire Emblem spirit. :)

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**:: A Gift ::**

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_His first memory was of fear and hatred. S__mall, fleshy creatures - _humans_, his senses hissed - surrounded him with pieces of misshapen metal they pointed threateningly at his eyes, wings, and throat._

_"- just a wyvern, we can probably tame-"_

_"Do you see the size of that thing-"_

_"- where it came from, I know it wasn't here when we-"_

_Words flew back and forth over head, the humans talking as though he couldn't hear them even as they tensed at his awakening and watched him warily. _But that had always been their problem,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind, disembodied and somehow familiar. _They see you, see _us_, as mere animals when it is they who are weak.

Kill them, _said a second voice, different yet similar to the first that had spoken. _Kill them all. Show the Divine how even a hatchling can easily annihilate the creatures they love so much.

_It was a fair point, he thought as he watched the humans' conversation grow more and more heated. He was not a common animal to be cowed by whips and bought with food. He was a dragon and these humans, these _things_, were not worthy to stand before him. It was only logical that he cut out their legs so they couldn't stand at all._

_The humans' screams grated annoyingly against his ears so he silenced them too. But then the air shuddered with an ancient power that dwarfed his own and a gargantuan... _creature_... rose from the horizon._

_A great, horned head looked down at him with six glowing red eyes. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth, and it almost seemed to smile as its face slowly approached, pushed downwards by the twisting movements of a long, sinuous neck._

_He shrank back and bared his teeth, not hopeful about his chances of survival but determined to go down fighting nonetheless. To his surprise the creature didn't attack at this clear sign of challenge, but rather paused and regarded him for a long moment. Then it threw back its head and laughed._

_His wings clapped down over his ears and he instinctively curled into a tight ball, shuddering as that dark, mocking laugh rang out over the world. The laugh held more than a hint of rage and insanity, promising pain and revenge to some ancient enemy, but at the same time something inside him stirred at the sound. The sound was familiar. Safe. Somehow he just knew that this creature, whatever it was, would not hurt him._

_"I apologize," a voice sounded from behind him. "Your existence was... unexpected."_

_He managed not to jump too badly, but his claws still scrabbled embarrassingly on the ground as he spun around to face the speaker. Physically it looked human, but unlike the humans from before this one had power - an ancient power almost identical to that of the creature still laughing above them._

_"You-"_

_"Hush," the 'human' said softly, and he fell silent almost without thinking. "I will explain, but before the curse awakens you must sleep."_

_A pallid hand reached out and settled gently on his head. Then there was only darkness._

_When he next woke it was in a weak, fleshy, wingless body - a_ human_ body -__ that somehow felt as natural as his true form. With a groan he opened his eyes to find the 'human' - predator, his senses screamed; kin, his instincts whispered - looking down at him with a strange expression, both hands wrapped around one of his. There was something inside his trapped hand, something round and hard that dug painfully into his palm, but when he tried to shift his fingers the man's grip tightened until that grew painful as well._

_He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak through unfamiliar vocal cords, wincing at the tremor in his voice._

_"W-who... what are you?"_

_"I am Grima," the 'human' said, still staring at his face as though searching for an answer to some obscure question. "Do you have a name?"_

_"No," he frowned - he probably should fix that. Maybe he could come up with something later. "You still haven't answered my question."_

_Grima moved back and gave him space to sit up, though his hand still hadn't been released. "Do you know what is in your hand?"_

_So Grima had no intention of answering. Fair enough, he supposed; someone with that much power wasn't obligated to say anything to anyone. _

_"A rock of some sort?" he guessed. Scraps of knowledge floated to the surface of his mind, the details diluted from ages of hibernation but enough to give him a vague idea of what might've happened for him to have ended up in this body. "Wait, don't tell me..."_

_Grima's grip finally shifted and his fingers were pried open with surprising gentleness to reveal the stone in the palm of his hand. It was a perfect sphere and shone faintly with a dark inner light, looking almost like a black gemstone with shades of purple at the edges._

_"A dragonstone," Grima said. "One of two of its kind. The first was forever lost, many lifetimes ago, after the defeat of its wielder. I trust you'll take better care of this one."_

Morgan - no, he was Marc now - sighed in relief once Morgan vanished outside. He leaned against the wall; then he jumped away and made a face, brushing ineffectively at the new layer of dust on his coat as he reached into a pocket and pulled out his oldest possession.

Tempting as it was, he'd never returned to his true form after that first day and instead relied on the dark magic that came naturally to his fingertips. Master Grima did not need dragons; he needed loyal servants and retainers, perhaps even companions, and for a time Marc had been more than happy to be all three. Then Morgan had appeared - his namesake, the daughter of Grima's vessel - and Marc couldn't help but notice the way Grima's face sometimes softened when he looked at her.

It was merely a remnant of Robin, Marc had silently chided himself on each occasion. Some of the vessel always remained behind, especially if said vessel was actually a piece that'd been broken off from the whole. And while it was true that Grima seemed to have a soft spot for Morgan, allowing her far more indiscretions than any human would warrant, Morgan had never been taken into Grima's confidence - not like Marc.

Marc held up his dragonstone, the first and only gift Grima had ever given him, and took a deep breath. Then he choked and coughed on the dust-filled air, fought down a sneeze, and reached for his magic. Energy swirled around the stone and sank into it, the stone's own latent energies reacting to its manakete's magic and anchoring the spell in a way that made it undetectable to all but the most powerful human mages. The surface rippled and began to shift, its familiar dark color slowly bleeding away into nothingness until the dragonstone looked like a silver gem, a perfect copy of the gemstone Argent.

"This is for the greater good," Marc whispered, squeezing his fingers around the decoy. Regular stones had no way for him to anchor the spell, at least not in a way that made it almost undetectable, and the dragonstone was the perfect size and shape for the illusion. It wasn't like he used it anyway - if anything getting rid of it was the smart thing to do as long as he was playing at being Morgan's cousin - and he'd get it back once their mission was finished. A few years was nothing to someone like him.

Breaking into the royal treasury was ridiculously easy with most of the guards having been rerouted to the Exalt's defense. He walked past the remaining guards under a veil of magic and pulled Argent out from its slot in the Shield of Seals, replacing it with his illusioned dragonstone. Argent hummed unpleasantly in his hand and he quickly dropped it into a specially insulated bag which he tied to his belt.

Mission complete, he went to rendezvous with Morgan and tried to ignore the aching feeling of loss in his chest.


End file.
